


delicate

by light_loves_the_dark



Series: ooh you and me would be a big conversation [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Daisy Johnson Deserves Better, Daisy Kinda Jumped Into This Oops, F/M, Family, Gen, How Would an Actual Ironwidow Romance Look After CW, IronWidow - Freeform, Nat is His Spider Mom, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Skye | Daisy Johnson Needs a Hug, T'Challa is V Helpful, The Accords are Messed Up But Not Going Away, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Responds to Things Like An Adult, Tony is basically Peter's dad, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/light_loves_the_dark/pseuds/light_loves_the_dark
Summary: Natasha slings Tony's arm around her shoulder and helps him to his feet. Then, she reaches for the shield. There is a long, ugly scratch through the star in the middle, and Tony vacillates between being horrified and smug.“Leave it,” he argues, looking away as if the sight might cause him to collapse again.“No,” she says, strapping it to her arm. He has seen that look on her face before, in a crowded lab on a Helicarrier, in the compound after Rhodey fell from the sky. He knows there is no arguing with her, and he is too weak to argue with fists anymore.Natasha leaves that bunker with the knowledge that everything she is holding in her arms is what’s left of the Avengers.-Natasha was the one to get Tony out of Siberia. Something so small leads to something very big.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> uhm? so this came from a headcanon I still have that Nat got Tony out of that bunker (it's? the only thing that makes sense?) and IW didn't disprove it so.
> 
> heads up, Daisy Johnson from AoS kinda slipped into this fic. Slight spoilers for S3 of AoS, but you don't have to have watched that to read this. I explain everything. All you need to know is that she's an ex-anti-establishment hacker who joined Coulson's SHIELD team, and she has powers, aka manipulating vibrations. Season 6 of AoS treated her very badly so I'm trying to give her another home.
> 
> hopefully the conversations about the accords aren't too confusing? lmk if I should clarify something. 
> 
> title from delicate by taylor swift. strangely, it's not really my favorite song, but the line below really struck me with post CW feels.
> 
> enjoy!

 

 

_this ain’t for the best. my reputation’s never been worse so… you must like me for me._

 

_-_

 

Ever since New York, Tony Stark has always known in his heart that he would die in battle. Despite the loss of his suits and Pepper, he knows he will never truly be able to stop fighting, to stop feeling like he has to atone for every single person he's ever hurt. To die in the field, he knows, would be noble and heroic and all the things he’s never seen in himself, and he even expects it.

He just didn’t think he would die here, in a Russian bunker, in the cold. Alone.

Eventually, he hears light footsteps, but he doesn’t have the will to look up and see who has come, probably to finish the job. The temperature is below freezing. He is still coughing blood, and his lips are turning blue. Steve’s shield is on the ground in front of him, mere feet away, the man who wielded it long gone. His armor is clearly useless, the arc reactor sparking, and his helmet is lying, battered, in the corner of the room.

The footsteps come to a stop by his feet, and he catches a faint glimpse of burnt red, followed by dark eyes that can't seem to settle on any one emotion.

The people they were in the compound, hours ago, are gone. He watches her with the caution of a man who doesn't know to hold on to the scraps of trust or anger, and that he sees that same caution reflected in the hand that comes to rest on his armor-covered arm. 

Because of course it is Natasha who kneels next to him, feeling around his chest and arms. He realizes that she is searching for the mechanism to retract the suit. “It’s broken,” he croaks out, wincing at the battered voice of a man who knows he has lost. She just looks at him. He has been screaming, she notes. His voice is hoarse and raw. “Don’t you think I would’ve gotten up by now if it wasn’t?” 

 _No,_ she thinks _. No_ , _I don’t think you would’ve._

Giving up on her search, she unfolds one of her knives, and he can only watch as she jabs it into the control panel. The suit falls off in pieces. Each one echoes as it hits the floor, folding into itself until it is a small, portable case. She carefully supports him with an arm around his shoulders, and he is too exhausted to shake her off. 

Her eyes have settled on some mixture of sadness and purpose, but although he searches he can find no guilt. No passionate feelings of anger or frustration or hatred. “Why are you here, Nat?” He sounds tired, resigned.

“I petitioned the UN for an alleviation of punishment for several reasons, including action to avoid extreme loss of life,” she explains verbatim, and once she starts she can’t stop. It’s not like her to ramble, but one of her teammates is sitting alone, shattered and injured, after another one of her best friends left him to freeze. She had promised herself to leave the Widow in the Quinjet, fearful of saying more things that would render their relationship unsalvageable. She's not sure where it stands as it is so she comes here as Natasha. “T’Challa called in to support my case,” she continues, “and in since he reported me in the first place, the executive panel said it is likely they’ll forgive it with a minor house arrest charge. It’ll take a week or two to go through, but-”

“Ross will block it,” he interrupts, watching her check his body for life-threatening wounds. He doesn’t move to help her; he doesn’t think he’s ever been so cold. Natasha seems unaffected by the freeze, but she is Russian. She had always joked that New York winters were too hot.

She pauses for barely a second at his words, before continuing to look him over. “Thaddeus Ross is no longer in the picture,” she replies, her voice neutral. He raises an eyebrow, but he lets that lie for now.

He imagines being harder on her, asking her why she switched sides in the first place, why she really came back to the compound, and especially why she’s here in this bunker with him, saving his ass from freezing to death. She must have an ulterior motive; she always does. He imagines being angry, jealous, and bitter, but it's cold and his whole body hurts and despite everything _she’s still the only one who came._

“C’mon,” she says, looking at the blue coloring that lines his mouth with furrowed brows. “You need to get out of the cold.”

She moves to help him up, but as she shifts, the metal arm comes into view behind her. Tony jerks back, nearly falling; everything catches up with him at once. Steve’s pleading face flashes before his eyes. The empty gaze of the Winter Soldier wrings his mother's neck. He sees the scared and determined gaze of the man who used to be Bucky Barnes too, and he hates that version just as much.

“He killed my mom.” The words spill out of him, and his mouth feels dry and wet at the same time, his stomach roiling. Then he throws up.

Natasha, as neutral as she had been only seconds ago, falters. She reaches for him, smoothing his hair back, her hands shaking. She smells like gunpowder and leather, and he leans away from her despite a sudden blinding need for comfort. “I’m sorry,” she whispers and means it. 

He looks up at her, unadulterated hate in his expression, but she doesn’t flinch. She knows it isn’t directed at her. “That’s it? You’re not gonna tell me he was brainwashed? That it wasn’t his _fault_?”

She just looks at him, her shoulders slumping as she continues to support him. “I can’t imagine anything worse than what we have become,” she tells him; her voice is raw with honesty. The bunker is dark and empty. There is so much blood on the floor, and he has no idea how much is his. “All that I have left is to be sorry.” He looks away, the truth hurting him more than the neutrality. He tries to contain himself, but silent sobs force their way out of his chest, and she just waits. 

Twenty minutes later, Tony has gone still, so she slings his arm around her shoulder and helps him to his feet, hooking his red and gold suitcase over her shoulder. Then, in a movement that is almost automatic, she reaches for the shield. There is a long, ugly scratch through the star in the middle, and Tony vacillates between being horrified and smug.

“Leave it,” he argues, looking away as if the sight might cause him to collapse again. His knees buckle a little, but Natasha does not comment.

“No,” she says, strapping it to her arm. He has seen that look on her face before, in a crowded lab on the Helicarrier, in the compound after Rhodey fell from the sky. He knows there is no arguing with her, and he is too weak to argue with fists anymore.

Natasha leaves that bunker with the knowledge that everything she is holding in her arms is what’s left of the Avengers. She knows she could drop Tony off in New York, where he would be warm and relatively safe. She could find Steve, stay with Clint, or even go out on her own. It would be easier, more comfortable than facing the judgment of the world.

“Are you staying?” Tony asks. His voice pretends to be light and neutral, but she knows he is terrified, because she is too.

“Well, who else is going to clean up your messes?” She replies, a small smile finally quirking her lips. It feels awkward and wrong, and it convinces her all the more that she has to stay. Even if sometimes, she would rather kill Tony Stark than deal with him. 

And somehow, with that smile, he knows the arguments and yelling and questions can come later. Right now, he clings to the broken strings of trust, leans on his teammate, and tries very hard to hold back his tears.

 

-

 

She pilots them to Stark Tower; they can’t go back to the compound, which will most likely be crawling with government officials. He texts Pepper and Rhodey that he’s safe and with Natasha; neither of them know what she did at that German airport. Only the executive panel and T’Challa know anything right now, and until he knows how to use that information, he’s happy to keep it quiet.

They don’t say much. Natasha tells him immediately that she gave Steve all the passwords and blueprints for the Raft, and that she expected the others would not be held for long. Although Tony is pissed at all of them, he’s relieved that they will be free. No one deserves that kind of captivity; he shudders at the memory of Wanda’s cell. She tells him again that Ross is gone, and does not elaborate. The executive panel is selecting a new head of enforcement, and they have agreed to let the remaining Avengers vet the applicants. T’Challa will be working closely with them to ensure the Accords are fair and just, and after pictures of the Raft hit the internet, the UN is agreeing that changes should be made.

If not for the past two hours, Tony thinks, he would be ecstatic at the progress being made.

When they land, he heads straight for the bar. “What’s your poison?” He asks, rummaging through the bottles.

“Vodka. Straight.”

He fixes her drink first, sliding it over the bar to her. She catches it, lifting it to her lips and taking a long gulp. He feels her eyes on him as he makes himself an old-fashioned, drinking the whole thing down before pouring himself another. When he looks up, Natasha has pushed herself up onto the bar, letting her legs swing in the empty air. She’s probably just as dirty as he is, but when he makes a comment about getting her ass off the bar, she just rolls her eyes at him. Her phone dings, and she pulls it out; her face goes stoic at the message.

“What is it?” He asks. “Please don’t tell me it’s something we gotta handle right now.”

Natasha looks at him with one eyebrow arched. “I didn’t know there was still a ‘we’,” she observes without any inflection in her tone, but he can hear the question.

“Nat, I’m pissed, hurt, and at the moment, I feel like I’m pretty much just dangling off a cliffside with three knives in my back,” he replies. Her legs have stopped swinging, like she can’t believe the sheer honesty pouring out of him. He hasn’t slept in days, and he is beyond emotionally exhausted, so he can’t really help it. He sits down on a barstool next to her, his eyes level with her waist. “But we’re the goddamn Avengers. Do I have to keep going, or is that enough for you for now?”

She doesn’t answer that, choosing to reply to his first question. “Clint and Scott Lang - the Antman,” she clarifies at his furrowed brow, “have decided to take a deal. House arrest for the minimum of a year in return for forgiveness and unsupervised time with their families.”

“And the rest?” He asks. He knows that information is also blinking on her phone.

“Gone,” she replies, refusing to elaborate. He wonders if she knows where they are, but he’s on his fourth drink. He really doesn’t want to argue with her at the moment.

They sit in silence for a while. It’s surprisingly comfortable, but an hour later, he’s ready to go to bed. They’re both afraid to face the press and the UN and the public tomorrow, but he needs at least three hours of sleep under his belt to make any kind of good impression. Still, there’s one more thing they need to clarify.

“You should know that I can’t trust you right now,” he tells her. It isn’t an insult; it isn’t meant to hurt. It’s just the truth. Every time he looks over at her, he expects her to be gone. “And I’m too tired to be pissed off, but I’ll probably want to scream and yell tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll save my lecture about bringing a minor into the field for then,” she retorts, but there’s hardly any bite to it. They’ve both made mistakes. It’s not really anything she needed to remind him of, but then again, they’ve never been close. How would she know that he tortures himself with guilt every night? How would she know how he couldn’t breathe when Peter stepped up against Steve, a tiny kid from Queens against Captain America?

She wouldn’t. But if she’s the last one here for him, then deep down he thinks he actually wants her to understand. But that’s an impulse he pushes deep down, along with the sheer incredulity and hope he had felt when she had chosen him over Steve only days ago. He refuses to deal with any of these complicated emotions. At least not yet. Right now, Tony just wants his mom, and for the second time, he needs to accept that he cannot have her.

“I deserved that,” he chuckles instead, propping his head up on his elbow and looking up at her. He’s buzzed enough that she just looks pretty, not at all like someone who could hurt him, and he bites back words of forgiveness. They aren’t children. She should know he won’t truly hold her moves against her, even if his trust and pride haven’t recovered. He doubts they ever really trusted each other anyway. Natasha is different, exempt from the same anger he feels when he thinks of Steve. With the exception of those first few months, he’s always known, relatively, where he stands with her. She’s never pretended to be the wholesome best friend that Steve has. He knows where to direct his anger, but the betrayal will sting for a while. “It’s just a… complicated situation,” he tries to explain, but his head is cloudy and he’s probably failing miserably. _He killed my mom,_ he thinks again, and he swallows the bile that rises in his throat.

Nothing about this will be easy.

“No promises, then,” she says, clinking her glass against his. “We have to take it day by day.”

It’s somehow exactly what he needs to hear. They both take a drink, and though neither of them comment, that in itself feels a little like a promise.

 

-

 

He does want to scream and yell tomorrow. And the next day. And the next.

It is two weeks until he approaches her again, too angry and, deep down, too fearful that anger will finally drive her away. He doesn’t wait for her to finish her exercises, instead barging into the gym like he’s on fire.

“Can you run me through what went through your head again?" The words burst out of him, almost without permission. "Because I still have no idea why you didn’t _tell me_.”

Natasha looks at him like he’s a madman. Tony knows he probably looks like he just woke up - because he did - and his voice is probably hoarse - because he woke up screaming - and he watches as it only takes her another few seconds to realize all of that information.

She goes back to her Tai Chi, her pause so brief that her movement is still fluid. “And we have to have this discussion now, _why_?”

“I own this Tower; I make the rules,” he counters. It’s like he can’t control his mouth; the words slip out, pointed and barbed, engineered to hurt.

“I don’t work for you, Stark.” She is still moving, and it is driving him crazy.

He walks up to her, coming to a halt only a foot away. He crosses his arms, leaning forward. The past two weeks have been hell for both of them with UN meetings and press conferences. Yesterday, he had watched as Natasha was hooked up to a lie detector, eyes wide as she lied over and over again with the needle hardly moving. It had struck him, bringing him back to why they are in the position in the first place. Natasha lies; it’s her MO. It’s what she’s known for. It’s how they began, and all he can think in this moment is whether it might be why they end.

“Yeah? Well, you did, remember that? When you told me I wasn’t recommended to become an Avenger, and then I took a nuke for you? And I’m the idiot who signed your pardon, Romanoff. I think that should inspire some loyalty.”

She stops abruptly, turning to face him. He feels a surge of triumph that anger finally burns in her expression. “It was Steve’s place, _not mine_ , to tell you what happened with your parents. We agreed that it would be better coming from him. I had no reason to think he hadn’t told you, so don’t try to pin it on me.” She folds her arms over her chest, mirroring him. Her eyes narrow, and anyone else would have backed down.

Not Tony Stark. He just glares back. “Don’t play red rover with me, Nat. You chose a side.”

Natasha rolls her eyes so hard that he has to bite back a childish quip about them getting stuck that way. “When will you realize it was never about choosing sides?”

“You told me to let go of my goddamn ego, Nat,” he says, wincing at the words. They had cut him more deeply than he wants her to know. “How was I supposed to take it?”

“Steve is my friend. So are you. Steve was letting his feelings get in the way of his common sense, but so were you.”

Tony clenches his hands into fists. “Yeah, me and a hundred plus countries.”

“A hundred plus _scared_ countries, Tony. And you were terrified too, of what we were capable of.”

Now they are toe to toe. “Wanda shoots pure energy out of her hands and her control is nowhere near perfect - I feel like I had a right to be concerned!”

“The Accords weren’t written in our favor and you know it,” she says, trying to keep the accusing tone from her voice. God knows how well that went last time. “They were written by scared people who are desperate to control and catalogue us, not protect us and the rest of the world. The Avengers might be relatively untouchable, but what about all the other powered people? We needed _time_ , Tony, time to work it all out. To revise. To fight. But the circumstances were bad and we let it get out of control. We were stupid and naive and now we have to pay for it.” She stops, surprised to feel her throat tightening. She swallows.

Tony is watching her with his head tilted and his eyes wide, the anger bleeding from his expression. They could fight about it for hours, but, he realizes suddenly, he doesn't want that. The truth is that he understands. He knows they were both driven by their emotions, both by a different kind of fear. And she's here, and that has to count.

But he’s frustrated by the nightmares.

Dreaming of New York was bad enough, but now it’s Steve standing over him, shoving the shield into his chest. He doesn’t know what else to do except take it out on Natasha, who is somehow cool as a cucumber all of the time. This is the first sign he's had that she is struggling just as much as he is, and he’s surprisingly hungry for it.  “Look, I’m sorry,” he begins, taking a step back, hands out in a placating gesture. “Busting in here was out of line. Forgive me?”

Natasha is watching him in disbelief, and that same hungry part of him is glad to see an honest emotion out of her, though another part of him he refuses to acknowledge hates to see her in pain. “I don’t know,” she begins slowly. “Can you forgive me?”

His jaw drops, and she backtracks quickly. “I’m not apologizing for everything,” she adds. He wonders if that’s because it’s too much or if it’s because she’s not sorry. “Just - telling you. I should’ve told you, or bothered Rogers about it. I think I knew deep down he would be too afraid to reopen that wound.” She almost adds something about his intentions being good, but she takes one look at Tony’s face and swallows the words back down. It’s not her place anymore to get in the middle of this thing between the two de facto leaders of the Avengers. And though she has some choice words for Tony at some point in the future, right now, she has more for Steve.

Tony feels a strange pride well up in him when she admits to Steve’s wrongdoing, but he pushes it down. That’s not what this is about; it’s about the two of them. Their friendship, not Steve’s mistakes.

“I forgave you the minute you told me,” he says, trying to start off this fresh page with honesty. “It wasn’t the same, and I knew it,” he attempts to explain. “It was the hypocritical part, you know? When someone preaches honesty and integrity like that-”

“I get it,” Natasha says quickly. She doesn’t want to talk about Steve. She thinks about the team, and her throat closes up again. “It’s just…”

Tony watches her with soft eyes. The anger is gone; the hurt and discomfort remains, but the anger is what’s been eating at him. He is relieved to find that the sight of Natasha no longer fills him with it. “Tell me,” he prods, waiting for her to speak.

“The team was the last thing I had,” she whispers. “Now, I have nothing.”

“Yeah? Well, then we’ll have a bunch of nothing together.” He hesitates, before he reaches across the emptiness between them, pressing his palm to her upper arm. A look of such terrible sadness crosses her face, but she reaches up regardless, resting her hand over his.

 _You have me_ goes unsaid, but she still feels the tentative hope in the expression on his face, the warmth of his skin on hers. Despite everything else that is wrong with the world, her heart swells. She thinks Tony Stark might be more compassionate that she could have ever imagined. 

 

-


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tony and nat talk a lot more, pepper makes an appearance, and a daisy in withdrawal from hive shows up at their doorstep.
> 
> (for non aos people: daisy has vibration powers, and she's a crazy good hacker. she's coming from getting turned against her team by an evil entity in her ex-hydra-boyfriend's body. so think being on hardcore drugs and then going completely cold. so she has a lot of guilt and emotions. basically she'll fit right in)

 

They settle into a new, slightly depressing routine of training, lab time, and UN meetings, with everything else falling to the backburner. Natasha is in close contact with T’Challa, who is providing assistance when he can. There is a span of a week or so when he falls off the face of the earth, but reconnects to tell them of a small coup d'etat in Wakanda. He has signed the Accords as a consulting Avenger only, but has the experience with diplomatic ties that Tony and Natasha lack.

Other than that, they have Vision, who is away unless they call him back. They both know he is meeting Wanda; they say nothing. Rhodey is too busy with his military commitments and his rehabilitation. It is difficult for Tony to even look at him without regret and guilt flooding him.

So, truly, it is just them, alone in the Tower, the Compound sitting empty upstate. Which is why Natasha is bored enough to accompany Tony to Stark Industries.

“You don’t have to come,” Tony tells her, shrugging on his suit jacket. Pepper had threatened death if he didn’t make time for the quarterly board meeting. Her face had gone a little too red in the video call, and even though they aren’t together anymore, he knows how stressed she’s been lately. SI stocks had taken a huge hit after the Avengers split, but had been steadily climbing as people realized that the Avengers and SI actually have no serious effect on one another. Still, he wants to help her where he can.

She had asked after Natasha too, wary about her loyalty after spending so much time with Steve over the years. Tony had replied that they are doing their best, leaving out the story of the airport and the bunker. Pepper and Natasha have always had a tentative peace after Nat had outed herself as a spy, and considering they both have strong, alpha personalities, Tony is really not up for rocking the boat at this point.

“Happy’s on vacation,” she points out as she presses the button for the elevator. She doesn’t say it, but he knows she feels that neither of them should be traveling alone at the moment. So he just nods, gesturing her into the elevator.

They make it to the New York SI conference building in fifteen minutes, a true feat in the city. Natasha leaves him to get a glass of water once they reach their floor, and Tony, reluctant, makes his way into the conference room. The board members are almost all there, glaring at him. Pepper gives him a tight smile from the head of the table, and Tony wants to call the armor immediately because he knows that look. They had given Tony a hard time when he made his PA the CEO of the company, and even as their numbers improved, some still grumble, especially when he isn’t in the room.

Tony sighs.

Just as they are settling in, Natasha walks in, dropping into the chair by the door. The emotions in the room go from frustrated to frightened in a second, and Tony swears the temperature drops. She ignores the looks of fear and awe around the room, pulling out a file and focusing on her nails. Only Tony knows she did them yesterday, and there isn’t one out of place.

One of the board member gulps. “Is that… the Black Widow?” He whispers to Tony, though from Natasha’s grin she can hear every word.

“Yeah, my bodyguard took the day off and she offered to step in,” Tony replies, trying to hide his laughter. “Is there a problem?”

At that, Natasha looks up from her nails, raising an eyebrow at the man. “No!” He yelps. “No, no problem at all. It’s lovely to have you here, Miss Romanoff.”

“Charmed,” Natasha says drily. Tony chuckles.

The meeting goes so smoothly that Tony is considering paying Natasha to come to these by the time it is wrapping up. Which is of course when something goes wrong.

“Used to be that we could have a business meeting without a woman telling us what to do,” one man mumbles as he stands. Tony sits up straight, but Pepper’s gaze has already shot to the unfortunate misogynist. Though the SI board tends toward straight, white men, most are either impressed with Pepper or know to keep their mouth shut in the face of good business. John Walters is new, though, and Tony narrows his eyes, already calculating how to get rid of him.

A moment later, he realizes he has no reason to worry. Natasha hasn’t moved since the meeting started, but now she uncrosses her legs. After the years they have spent together, Tony knows to wait. “Mr. Walters, your finances were really quite an interesting read,” Natasha says evenly, still focused on her nails. The whole room, which had been filled with chatter mere seconds ago, falls quiet. The eyes of man in question bug out, and Tony can see the smirk Natasha is barely trying to hide.

“Anything that Stark Industries should be aware of, Miss Romanoff?” Pepper asks in the echoing silence. Natasha looks up then, and the two women share a sharp and deadly smile. Tony leans back in his chair, a huge grin spreading across his face. He says nothing, content to watch Walters be torn apart by the two most capable people he knows.

“Mr. Ramirez?” Natasha asks, maintaining eye contact with Pepper.

His CFO straightens. “Miss Romanoff?”

“Please access Panama National Bank account number 15237145. Password is spot635.” The CFO finds the account quickly, eyes widening before sliding the laptop over the Pepper. “Really, John, your dog’s name?” She adds, a wicked look in her eye, switching her gaze to her target.

Walters shrinks in response at first, but then decides it’s a good time to puff out his chest. He is sputtering as he replies, most likely at Natasha’s honey-like voice. “I don’t think-” he begins, standing.

Pepper interrupts him. “Ramirez, call HR. The rest of you are dismissed; my secretary will distribute my notes later today.” The room clears in an instant. “Tony, are you staying?”

“We have a UN meeting,” Natasha reminds him, standing. Pepper beckons her over.

To Tony’s surprise, Pepper takes Natasha’s hands in hers, bringing her closer until their cheeks touch in a facsimile of a goodbye. “I’m thinking we should get coffee, Natasha,” she offers, warm and shrewd all at once. It is a look only Pepper can pull off.

“FRIDAY will send you my schedule,” Natasha agrees, releasing her hands and turning away with one more dismissive glance at her victim. Tony lets her go before him through the door; once they are in the hallway, he presses a light hand to her low back before leaning in to speak with her.

“That was hot,” he says, chuckling. He’s not lying; seeing her like that made him a little too warm for comfort. Natasha gives him a look, but she can’t help her small smile. “Seriously, though, thanks. Pep deserves better.”

The smile fades, and she stares straight ahead. “Little girls look up to me,” she says abruptly. Tony waits for her to continue. “They should be looking up to women like Pepper.”

Tony thinks this might be a landmine, but he plows through it regardless. “I think you and Pepper are the biggest badasses I’ve ever seen,” he admits, and Natasha seems to skip a step. “I know you can defend yourself just fine, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed on behalf of both of you.” Natasha doesn’t know how to reply to that, so she stays quiet. “Although,” he continues, trying to lighten the mood, “no one is a better ally than Thor that time he took a haircare question for you.”

Natasha shakes her head at the memory of Thor painstakingly revealing his hair routine, down to the length of time he shampooed and conditioned, when a reporter had tried to discuss fashion with Natasha. It had been a highlight of their time together. “Thank you, Tony,” she replies, quiet and honest.

Tony just shrugs. “I got a message from Phil Coulson yesterday,” he says, changing the subject. They have both been following the rogue SHIELD’s actions carefully, wary about intervening. Coulson has access to many Inhumans, and both the Avengers would rather be able to plausibly deny knowing any of them.

Natasha just hums, nodding to Tony as he opens the doors for them. They ignore the cameras and shouts from paparazzi as they get into the black car waiting for them, Natasha resting a guiding hand on his back as if she is actually taking her fake one day job as Happy seriously. She glares at one man so deeply that he actually falls over. “We’re having meetings at the tower from now on,” he mumbles, before continuing on his previous train of thought. “There’s an Inhuman he wants us to babysit.”

“Are they aware they’ll have to sign the Accords if they come here?” Natasha asks. That has to be a breaking point for many of the powered people in the world. The Accords are still not so good, even though T’Challa and she are putting in hours upon hours of revising.

Tony nods. “He says he’s briefed her. She has control, wants to do some good after doing what Agent referred to as ‘some bad’.”

Natasha thinks for a moment. “I trust his judgment,” she says finally. “Will she be joining the team?”

“On a consulting basis,” he replies, looking out the window. “Hey, it’s a burger place; want to stop?”

Natasha shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

Tony eyes her. “I was kinda joking,” he admits. “Aren’t you a vegetarian?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “And exactly what part of my personality, history, and job description, Stark, gave you the impression I only eat plants?”

Tony actually laughs. “God, you know, fair enough. Jim, pull over, will you?”

Suffice to say, they leave twenty happy children behind, sitting in the restaurant with napkins signed by two of their heroes.

 

-

 

Natasha and Tony wait in the lobby of the Tower, watching a black van pull up outside. A young woman with short, dark hair gets out, carrying only a backpack and one duffel bag. She has a leather jacket draped over her shoulders, giving the tower before her a wary glance. They expect a scared, powerful Inhuman, and they get one. But neither of them could have predicted Daisy.

She greets them both in a low tone, thanking Tony for opening up his home to her before asking if there’s a computer she can use. She doesn’t seem very talkative, which suits both of the Avengers just fine. Natasha likes silence, and Tony likes the sound of his own voice.

The Tower is silent throughout the rest of the day, though Natasha keeps an eye on the surveillance footage. Coulson hadn’t said anything about the young woman being a flight risk, but she knows one when she sees one. Daisy’s duffel bag is left, unemptied, on the bed. She spends the entire afternoon working on an SI laptop, and when Natasha asks FRIDAY to check her web history, FRIDAY reports that she is unable to access the network any longer.

When Natasha takes this information to Tony, he is wide eyed as he explains the complicated hacking it would take to do such a thing, half-running to the common area to interrogate a surprised Daisy. She sheepishly admits she’s not used to getting caught.

Within a week, Tony builds her a lab.

“She’s a genius, Nat,” he gushes. “Like, an incredible hacker. Do you think she’d do some work for SI?”

Tony isn’t lying. Daisy finds them multiple HYDRA cells in that first week, pulling up blueprints and documents and updating all their surveillance systems. Natasha watches her carefully. She does Tai Chi in the morning, likely a product of working with Melinda May for years. She trains hard but never uses her powers. She spends almost all her time in the lab, barely eating or sleeping. Her duffel bag remains unpacked. Natasha lets it last two weeks before she calls Coulson.

“What, exactly, happened to your agent, Phil?” She asks, voice hard. It is clear that Daisy is suffering just as much as it is clear that no one has been helping her.

With a sigh, Coulson explains about Hive and her Inhuman boyfriend. He also explains how effusive and kind and witty Daisy is, which Natasha has almost never witnessed. She hangs up on him about halfway through their conversation, dialing another familiar number.

“Helen? I need you to consult for a case we have.” To her credit, Helen says nothing about Steve and the others, agreeing immediately. “Tony can have you flown from anywhere, just send FRIDAY the details,” she adds, ending the call.

Within the span of an hour of tests and conversation, Helen Cho diagnoses Daisy with PTSD, chemical dependency, and withdrawal. She sets her up on a detox program and a strict sleeping and diet schedule, asking FRIDAY to monitor her. She gives Natasha the numbers of several local therapists before leaving, urging her to help Daisy reach out.

It takes several more weeks, but Daisy agrees to therapy. Tony has been watching over her in his own way, challenging her to hacking competitions and teaching her the basics of mechanical engineering.

“Fitz would be so jealous if he knew,” Daisy says with a laugh, helping Tony update Natasha’s widow bites. Tony takes the opportunity to ask about her team, and just like that, Daisy begins telling him all sorts of stories, smiling wide as she details the background of the agents with whom she works. Though Tony has never been the best listener, he likes the sound of Daisy’s voice, and he lets it wash over him as they work together. It feels like rebuilding in the strangest way, and he pushes the thought to the back of his mind, content to follow the parameters that Natasha set for them on that first night: _let’s just take it day by day._

“I really like her,” Tony confides to Natasha, and she just looks at him, the words _yeah, I figured that out, genius,_ written all over her expression.

Two months later, Daisy finds him in the lab at one in the morning.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, sparks flying as he works on the suit.

“Yeah,” she replies, pausing. It is obvious she has something to say, so he just eyes her over the suit, waiting. “Okay, okay,” she says after thirty seconds, throwing her hands up in the air, “my therapist said I needed to talk to you. Or Natasha. But she still scares me a little.”

“Okay,” Tony says slowly. He’s not the best with feelings and he knows it. “What’s up?”

Daisy sighs, fiddling with her hands. She looks so small in her oversized sweater, not at all like the genius he sees in the lab or the badass he sees in training. Though the dark circles under her eyes have faded and she has returned to a healthy weight, she still looks haunted.

“He said I should talk about not wanting to use my powers with, well, someone that has powers.” Tony holds back a quip about actually _not_ having powers, mentally patting himself on the back, before gesturing for her to go on. “I hurt people - my friends. They forgave me.”

She goes quiet, and Tony realizes that she’s not going to continue without prodding. “They sound like good friends,” he offers, making an awkward fluttering gesture with his hands.

Her fingers tighten into fists. “I don’t deserve it,” she says, her voice wavering. She turns away from him, but he can see the tears forming in her eyes. “I don’t deserve it,” she repeats, shaking her head like she can’t even believe in the concept of forgiveness.

“I don’t think you get to decide that, kid,” he tells her. She starts shaking.

And then the room starts shaking.

Tony isn’t worried; he built this tower to withstand the Hulk, and there’s nothing in his main lab that he can’t replace. Daisy, on the other hand, looks at her hands in horror. “Do you have a room… y’know, for the Hulk?” She asks, holding herself tightly.

“A couple, yeah.”

“Please, take me there.”

He leads her down the stairs, trying to stay calm and controlled. He knows he went wrong with Wanda; he had shown that he was terrified of what she could do. Now, after spending so much time with Daisy, he understands what it must be like to always fear yourself more than anyone could possibly fear you. Daisy vibrates the floor underneath him, but it is slight and Tony has suits at the ready. There is no reason to be afraid, he knows, but he also knows that Daisy wouldn’t believe him if he told her. She has to discover it for herself.

When he points out the door, she breaks away, sprinting into the room and slamming the door.

The whole tower shudders as she falls to her knees with a sob, wrapping her arms around her body. Tony waits until the shaking eases before opening the door, sitting a few feet away from her without a word. A moment later, Natasha comes through the door, assuming a similar position right next to her. The room starts vibrating at a higher frequency.

“Get out,” Daisy cries. “I could hurt you.” They both just sit there, waiting. “Get out!” She yells, turning to Natasha with fire in her eyes.

“I work with the Hulk, Daisy,” Natasha says, voice gentle and calm. “I’m not afraid of you.”

The words change something in Daisy. Covering her eyes with her hands, and she leans into Natasha’s arms, coming apart. Natasha strokes her hair, humming a soft lullaby. “You’re strong,” she tells her, squeezing the young woman closer. Daisy isn’t that much younger than Natasha herself, and she knows what it’s like to regret your past so much that it drives you mad. “And you’re good. You’re _very_ good.”

Daisy’s sobs trail off, and she looks up at them both with an apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she shakes her head, wiping away her tears before sitting up straight. “I didn’t mean to lose it - I mean, I’m not usually like that.”

“Daisy, you’re going through some shit,” Tony says, matter-of-fact. “If you didn’t lose it once in a while, I’d get nervous. Hell, even Nat loses it sometimes.”

Natasha looks at him with a blank expression, but her eyes are twinkling. “No, never,” she deadpans, and Daisy laughs.

“You guys are insane,” she tells them. “But, y’know, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Tony tells her, serious for a moment. “But can we talk about your power? Goddamn, Daisy, you’re incredible.”

Daisy smiles, spending the next two hours showing them everything she’s learned. Natasha spars with her for a while, enjoying the sound of Daisy’s laughter as she vibrates the air around her fists to pack more of a punch. Natasha is still able to take her down several times with her own tricks, but it is clear that Daisy is more powerful then they could have imagined.

After a while, Natasha bows out. She moves to stand behind Tony, who is seated on one of the benches, reaching out to rub his shoulder when Daisy is too focused to notice.

“You did good,” she says, smiling down at him.

He just grins back, catching her hand in his and leaning back against her. Her breath catches at the sign of trust, and she feels warm. “Say that again; I want FRIDAY to film it so I have proof.”

“Careful,” she tells him. “I can still kick your ass.”

He looks up at her, smirking. “I can’t help it,” he quips. “I’ve always had a type.”

“Whoa, do you guys need the room?” Daisy shouts from the target practice area.

Tony’s eyes widen comically, and his hand slips from hers. “Yeah, that’s the last thing we need right now, San Andreas. Don’t you have a session at nine a.m. tomorrow morning? I don’t want Coulson to come and murder me because you aren’t getting enough sleep-”

Natasha drowns the rest of the tirade out, watching the two bicker with a fond smile. Then she remembers the quips that Clint and Tony used to trade all the time, always with that same undercurrent of warmth and concern.

Her smile fades, but she doesn’t let them see.

 

-

 

They are on a mission when Natasha decides to bring it up. “That boy you brought to Germany,” she begins, flipping over a HYDRA agent and knocking him out. “Where is he?”

“Are you sure you want to talk about this now?” He asks, shooting the ropes holding up a nearby chandelier. The lighting fixture falls, knocking out five more men. They are in the process of shutting down all retired super soldier bases; Daisy has found them a list and Tony really doesn’t want a repeat of Barnes. Natasha just gives him a look, so he obliges, glancing at the clock, and doing the math for the timezones in his head. “At school, probably,” he quips.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I meant he should be around the Tower. There’s a lot he needs to learn.” She dropkicks a man in the face, and though Tony refuses to reflect on it, it really is the most attractive thing he’s seen in a while.

Of course, he’s now realizing that he’s always been attracted to Natasha. That doesn’t mean anything could ever come from it.  

He clears his throat, shaking the thoughts from his head. Natasha being attractive is the last thing that he should be thinking about, especially at this particular moment. “Yeah, with the UN crawling up my ass, I don’t need any more responsibilities.”

A few more men run out of a nearby room, guns drawn. Tony blasts one, picking up Natasha and carefully throwing her at another. She lands on the agent’s shoulders, grabbing the last one by the neck and flipping them both. If there is anything good that came out of the Avengers breaking apart, it’s that Tony and Natasha work so fluidly now it’s a little bit frightening. He knows now how to hold her without hurting her, and she is getting quite good at jumping onto him in midair. He remembers one time, when he held her by her knees while she bent over backwards, expertly shooting every single person in a room. He wonders when they had begun to work better together than by themselves.

He wishes he had gotten that one on camera.

“The world’s too dangerous for a fifteen year old boy to be swinging around with no experience.” Natasha shakes her head, pulling him back to the present. “I’ll train him, then,” she adds, ignoring Tony’s furrowed brows. She puts in a call for the clean up crew after saving and wiping all the information on the computer. There are some things the UN doesn’t need to know, and she secrets the flashdrive in her boot.

“Nat, I’m starting to feel like we’re in a really bad, cheesy sitcom about adopting stray superheroes.” She rolls her eyes. “We could be on CBS; I’m serious!”

“We’re already on the news every night; the last thing we need is more publicity,” she snarks as they walk back to the Quinjet. The UN hates when they leave a site before the clean up crew comes, but if they’re not rebelling a little, it doesn’t feel right.

Tony just smirks at her. “You’re just mad that paparazzi saw you and Daisy getting coffee and now think you’re in a relationship.”

Natasha just glares at him. “Are you going to let me train Spider-boy or not?”

“Spiderman,” Tony corrects without thinking.

“He’s fifteen.”

“Okay, Spider-infant it is.”

Just then, Natasha’s phone rings. She takes one look at the display before shooting Tony a mildly apologetic look, sliding her thumb across the screen to answer. “Hi Wanda,” she says as she walks to the back of the plane, loud enough for Tony to hear. He knows it is a sign of trust and disclosure, and he can’t help the genuine smile that crosses his face.

The two speak for an hour or so, Tony working on his own to-do list while keeping an eye on the plane controls. Natasha climbs into her chair, wordless, eyes settled on the skyline.

She looks irritated, and Tony’s heart jumps in his throat. What had Wanda done? “I won’t press,” he starts, keeping his tone even. “But - anything I should know?”

“She’s angry… and she’s sorry. Afraid and overconfident,” Natasha replies, a mess of roiling contradictions that actually makes a lot of sense. Wanda, in her heart, is kind and good, and still reeling from the loss of her brother. But she is made for war: her powers are immensely strong yet difficult to control. Now that Tony has worked with Daisy, he has begun to understand what that must be like. “But she knows I’ll call her out on her bullshit, unlike Rogers or Sam,” Natasha continues, not looking at Tony.

“Bullshit?” He asks.

“She had some choice words about your character.”

Tony laughs, low and dark. “I imagine she would.”

Natasha clears her throat. “I told her, if she’s looking for someone to blame, especially you, then she needs to get her head out of her ass.”

Tony nearly falls out of his chair. “What?” He croaks. Natasha shrugs, refusing to elaborate. “Nat-” he starts, swinging around and leaning toward her. “What the hell?”

Natasha sighs, resting her elbows on her thighs and hunching over a little. She keeps her gaze on the sky, and he’s realizing now why she’s not looking at him. He leans closer. “Why would you-”

 _Why would you defend me like that?_ He doesn’t say.

“It’s been a few months,” she says. “I’m seeing clearer now than I ever had. Everything you break, Tony, you try your best to fix. That’s going to be your legacy, at least for me.”

Tony takes a shaky breath. “Natasha, look at me.”

She does, and it’s then he notices the fierceness in her expression, the sincerity and conviction. He blinks, and he is unsurprised to notice moisture blurring his vision. “You’re the strongest person I know.” She doesn’t look away, and he leans closer. “You’re the - I can’t even articulate what -”

And he can’t help it. Moving slowly, so she can stop him if she wants, he pulls her to her feet. Then he wraps his arms around her. She makes him weak, he thinks, his eyes growing more blurry as he tucks her head under his chin. Her frame is strong and wiry, but holding her like this, he realizes how small she is. And she’s never been a victim or a liability; in fact, she’s been the savior when the rest of them have been injured or lost.

“Thank you,” he whispers, hoping her arms might come around him to return the embrace. Despite his hopes, she stays frozen, but he gives her that; the true miracle is that she’s not pulling away.

The other miracle: the longer he holds her, the more the feeling of weakness fades away. The way she understands him, defends him, lets him be himself in a world of people trying to bend him out of shape - it has been his light in the darkness for weeks.

Though he knows he is softening towards her, this isn’t weakness. This woman is making him strong.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope i captured daisy accurately with the accords! also peter is super cute. also the introduction of Feelings.

 

 

 

The first time Peter meets Natasha Romanoff, really meets her, not just through a comm link, he can hardly sit still. Ironman and Captain America are incredible, of course, but there is something incredible and powerful about an Avenger with no mechanical suit or super strength. Natasha is a normal human, like Aunt May, and she has become a superhero. He’s a little starstruck. Okay, he’s a lot starstruck. 

“I want you here, every day after school,” she orders. “Daisy or I will work with you, or you’ll train on your own. You will stay from four to seven o’clock, and come in for a half-day on the weekend. Am I clear?”

“Y-yes, Miss Romanoff, crystal,” Peter stutters. “But - uh -” She raises an eyebrow. “ - I have math team practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and um, I can’t let down my team, y’know?”

From Natasha’s expression, she does not know, but she nods anyways. “Fine,” she agrees. “But you come here straight after. If you don’t, I’ll know.”

Peter doesn’t ask how she’ll know. He just takes her word for it.

Their first day of training, she doesn’t let him wear the suit. They practice basic hand-to-hand combat for hours, interspersing running drills and strength training. He wonders how she knows the rep counts and weight that will actually make him sweat, and sweat he does. Weeks later, she tells him that she is training him like she has seen Steve Rogers train, and Peter swoons a little.

They continue in this pattern for a while. Sometimes, it’s Daisy who works with him. She tries to teach him Tai Chi, but he’s too impatient, so he just runs while she warms up. Daisy is amazing and approachable and really funny; Peter tells her everything and she listens, even about Flash Thompson and his obsession with making high school harder for Peter than it already is. She just rubs his shoulder, asking him if he wants help. He shakes his head; what can Daisy do anyways?

Apparently, she can tell Natasha.

“Daisy told me that someone’s hurting you at school,” she says the next day. Her knives seem to require more sharpening than usual; the edges are almost glittering by the time she decides to bring it up.

“Um, yeah, but it’s not like he can actually hurt me.”

Natasha stops her motion, looking up at him. He’s been running laps for ages, and sweat is dripping down his chin. Though he still doesn’t feel too bad, he’s probably the weakest he could be without an actual injury. He wonders if Natasha plans all her interrogations this way. “There’s a lot of ways to hurt someone,” she replies, standing and crossing her arms. “Trust me, I’d know.”

He lets out a breathless laugh. “Yeah,” he says, shifting from foot to foot. He keeps his eyes on the floor. “Anyway, it’s fine. Really.”

“You know you have to keep control of your abilities,” she reminds him. “Kids can be assholes, but you’re a hero. You’re better than that.”

Peter flushes all over. “Really? You think - I mean, thanks, Miss Romanoff.”

“It’s Natasha, Peter.”

“Right, right,” he agrees, still blushing. “Natasha.” And even though he will always be loyal to Mr. Stark for all that he’s done, he can’t help but beam at this rare praise. Natasha has kicked his butt over the past month, but she’s doing it to keep him safe. That buys her a particular brand of Peter Parker loyalty, even though Daisy jokes that it’s more like he just stares at her like a lost puppy. It doesn’t help that she’s the Black Widow, because he was bitten by a radioactive spider. Peter is sure it is meant to be. Not that he would ever say anything of the like to Natasha herself. 

And it’s not like he’s doodled ‘Spider Squad’ in his notebook or anything. Okay, maybe once. 

His wide-eyed admiration only deepens when she shows up outside his school the next day, leaning against one of Mr. Stark’s cars. It’s the bright orange Lamborghini, probably the most conspicuous one out of them all. She looks like the coolest person that any student who goes to his school has ever seen, with her black leather jacket and a pair of aviator sunglasses. She tosses him a banana as he approaches with MJ, who is furiously jabbing him in the side with her finger. 

“That’s Natasha Romanoff,” she hisses. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Not sure,” he whispers back, raising his voice when they get within earshot of Natasha. “Hey, um, Natasha. What’s hanging?” He nearly slaps himself; how stupid can he get?

“Tony and Daisy want you to judge a hacking contest,” she replies, looking to the world like the stoic Black Widow. Peter, though, can see the hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Apparently I’m biased.”

“Against who?” MJ blurts out, before somewhat collecting herself. “I mean, hi, Miss Romanoff, it’s a total honor to meet you. I’m Michelle, Michelle Jones.”

It is then that Peter realizes that he’s going to have to explain all this come Monday. Sure, he has a Stark Internship, but knowing the Avengers? That’s something else entirely. 

Natasha smirks. “I know,” she says. “Peter talks about you all the time.” He feels his face turning bright red; of all the mortifying things she could’ve possibly said, that takes the cake, and she knows it. “C’mon, Peter, we need to go.” 

She opens the car door for him, and just before he gets in, he notices her gaze has hardened and focused on a point behind him. When he turns to look, he sees Flash, who is actually turning green under the heat of Natasha’s glare. She stares at him a moment longer before she lets the corners of her lips turn up into a unpleasant smile, and for a moment, he thinks Flash is actually going to throw up. When she breaks away, MJ is staring at her with her mouth hanging open. Peter looks around; most of the students are doing the same.

“Bye, MJ,” he says weakly, getting into the car. MJ just nods, still in shock. Natasha sends him a nearly imperceptible wink before climbing in herself, revving the engine.

“Natasha, what-” He begins.

“I don’t like bullies,” she says, short and sweet and not inviting any conversation. After that, Flash stops bothering him almost entirely. Peter decides, though he still kind of has a thing for MJ, he might also have a little hero-crush on Natasha Romanoff.

 

-

 

Sometimes, Natasha, Daisy, and Peter all get to train together. And sometimes, Tony steals Peter away to work in the lab, citing that if he goes around claiming he has a SI internship, he should be actually doing some mechanical work. This leaves the two women to work, and after a couple months of learning each other’s moves, it’s actually become quite fun. 

That is, until Natasha pulls politics into it. “I’d like to consult you on the Accords,” she says when they are taking a water break. 

Daisy just stares at her. “What is there to consult about? I don’t agree with the Accords. I know you know that.”

“You signed them,” Natasha points out. 

“Yeah, because _ I _ need to be put in check. But I’ve met, I dunno, at least two dozen Inhumans whose powers aren’t destructive, and they just want to live in peace. Natasha, you’re talking to an ex-anti-establishment hacker. What were you expecting?”

Natasha doesn’t reply; instead, she looks straight at Daisy. The glare is not unfriendly, but it is cold and assessing, and it takes all of Daisy’s strength not to avert her eyes. 

“Let’s get coffee,” Natasha says, making for the door. Though it might be a suggestion for anyone else, Daisy hear the clear command, grabbing her jacket. 

They walk to a local coffee shop in silence, giving Daisy time to analyse Natasha for clues as to what her endgame might be. She isn’t one to give anything away, but Daisy feels like Natasha might be earnest in wanting to change her mind on this. The Accords have been hanging over their heads since they met, like a dark cloud heavy with rain that’s just waiting to drown them all. Tony and Natasha tend not to talk about it around Peter and her, but she has heard them arguing in the lab, seen them sitting together in the conference room, papers covering every inch of the long, rectangular table. It reminds her a bit of two parents unwilling to talk about a divorce, though Tony and Natasha do always seem to remarkably be on the same page. It’s something for which she genuinely admires them, though she would never dare tease them about being a married couple. Well, not yet. 

She has noticed the King of Wakanda stopping by as well; they’ve met briefly, but he is always in a hurry to find Natasha, so she doesn’t keep him. She knows they are working to make the Accords better, but Daisy can’t help but imagine the worst case scenario: that the world needs them, and the Accords keep them out of the fight. Or that some evil HYDRA-like organization gets a list of all active people with powers, and exploits them. Really, she has a laundry list of concerns. 

Every time she thinks of the Accords, the hacktivist in her rises up. Despite her friendship with Tony, she would’ve sided with Captain America. It would’ve been the right thing to do. 

Somehow, she feels like Natasha knows exactly what she is thinking as they order coffee - black for Natasha, with cream for Daisy - and find a small table tucked in the back of the shop.

Natasha waits until their drinks arrive before she speaks. “Will you hear me out?” She asks, arching an eyebrow. The coffee sits in front of her, untouched.

With anyone else, it would be an easy yes. But Daisy knows of Natasha’s skill with manipulation and interrogation, and wisely, she is a little afraid. 

She picks up her drink, taking a gulp. The heat makes her wince; she can’t believe she had been too nervous to check the temperature, and from Natasha’s smirk, she can tell. “If you promise to give it to me straight, sure,” Daisy offers, despite her awareness that the woman sitting across from her would never make such a promise. 

Natasha eyes her for a long moment. “You’re not a hacker anymore, Daisy. Or a SHIELD agent,” she begins.

“Let me guess,” she replies drily. “I’m an Avenger.” God, she didn’t think Natasha was going to be cheesy about it.

Natasha laughs. “No, not quite,” she says, and Daisy is a little offended. Though she knows there’s more to being an Avenger than being powerful, she had landed Natasha on her ass in training earlier that day. “But you are a leader,” she continues. “Inhumans know you. They look to you as an example.”

Daisy leans back in her chair, looking at Natasha in disbelief. “And that means I should let them all be catalogued?”

“It means that you don’t have the luxury of running away, not if you want to make a difference,” Natasha replies, and okay, it’s a little convincing. “Could you become a fugitive? Technically. But that’s the rest of your life, Daisy. And that’s the rest of all those people’s lives; hiding in the shadows, with no one to openly stick up for their rights.”

“Sounds better than getting kidnapped by HYDRA,” Daisy retorts. “Cause, you know, that almost happened to me, and it sucked.”

“Do you know why Tony signed the Accords?” Natasha asks, and Daisy nearly gets whiplash from the subject change. Though she has a pretty good idea why, she shakes her head. She wants to know why Natasha thinks he did it. “He signed because he was afraid and guilty,” Natasha says, point blank. And now Daisy’s a little offended on Tony’s behalf, but she also knows that Natasha’s probably right. They’ve both heard Tony’s reactions from his nightmares when he falls asleep in the lab, and they both have watched as he painstakingly makes arrangements for all of the dead and injured left in the wake of their team. Even though there would be many more if the Avengers did nothing.

Natasha sighs then, finally reaching for her coffee. “And he isn’t wrong to be,” she admits, taking a long drink. She keeps her unwavering gaze on Daisy, though, and she can see just how serious Natasha is. “But I signed because the Avengers are public,” she continues, and Daisy tilts her head. “People like Tony and T’challa can’t go off the grid,” Natasha explains. “They run businesses and countries, invest in charities. I knew we had to get ahead of this, somehow, because with that many countries signing, it was going to happen whether we liked it or not.”

Daisy is quiet for a moment, thinking everything over. Natasha is very thoughtful and circumspect about the whole thing, but she is still uncertain. Documents like the Accords limit more than they protect, and government has always been very easily corrupted. “You really think we can turn it to our advantage?”

“Yes,” Natasha replies, short and confident. “The UN is apologetic about Ross and the Raft. They realize they were hasty. Public opinion in the wake of those events, plus HYDRA, is skewed in our favor. If we act before the next global disaster, Tony and I won’t have to modify our operations too much, and we can open a door for the other Avengers.”

Daisy narrows her eyes. “And what about the little people? The average powered person? Not important enough for you?”

“They’re not my concern,” Natasha shrugs, leaning back in her chair and taking another long sip of coffee. 

Daisy can feel her anger rising, and she pushes her powers down in return. No need to provide the UN with another real world example of why they might be right. “Listen, I get that ‘global disasters’ are your thing, but these people have to live every day thinking they could be caught and thrown in jail for, I don’t know, stopping a falling crane!” She whisper-shouts, ignoring the shushes from the table next to them.

“The Avengers have to be my priority, Daisy,” Natasha says, keeping her posture relaxed. Daisy knows she’s doing it on purpose, but it doesn’t stop it from working.   


“Fine, then, I’m in,” she retorts. “Someone has to balance out you psychopaths. And don’t think I didn’t see what you did there,” she adds.

Natasha smirks, setting down her coffee and standing. “That’s about as straight and narrow as I get,” she divulges. Daisy feels the frustration bleed out of her, nodding. The Black Widow would not be caught in a manipulation unless she did so on purpose. And even on purpose, Daisy is still convinced to help, which means that deep down, she knows Natasha has a point. “We should get back,” she adds. Daisy stands as well, and they walk out together.

“I think those were the Avengers,” one older woman whispers to her friend, when they are still in earshot.

The friend rolls her eyes. “In this dingy place? No way,” she claims, dismissing the other woman with a wave of her hand.

When Daisy and Natasha reach the street, Daisy bursts into laughter. Unsurprisingly, Natasha does not join her, though she does crack a smile. 

 

-

 

It is a normal part of their routine for Tony to find Natasha in the kitchen at two in the morning. He has finally bowed out of the lab in search for food after his stomach complained so loudly that T’Challa could probably hear from Wakanda. She is cupping a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, filled to the brim with whipped cream, which is definitely not part of that normal routine. 

“That’s the secret to being a ninja, huh?” He says, entering the room. She doesn’t look surprised to see him at all, only shifting on her bar stool so she can see him better. 

“Careful, people have been assassinated for less,” she drawls, giving him a smirk. She nods to the other end of the bar, where there’s another steaming mug waiting for him. There is no whipped cream on this one; he isn’t sure how she knows he isn’t a fan, but he’s grateful for it.

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to go for something a little stronger,” he says, making his way around the bar.

Natasha sits up straighter, just like he knew she would. “Tony,” she warns. 

He laughs, closing the liquor cabinet. “Okay, okay, it’s not worth the ice stare,” he acquiesces. He reasons that he can just get himself a drink later, when they’re done. The hot chocolate actually looks very inviting, so it’s not a difficult choice. 

“How’s Pete been in training?” He asks, not just to fill the silence. It’s warm and comfortable between them; it has been for a while.

Natasha thinks for a moment before responding. “Well enough,” she admits. “He’s reckless. He reminds me of you.” 

“Hey,” he complaining, grinning as she raises a challenging eyebrow at him. “I’m perfectly stable, Nat, I’m extremely offended.”

She rolls her eyes. “Mmhm,” she replies, sensing an argument is not worth the effort. “It just means I’ll have to cover all three of you on the field.” 

“As long as you cover Spider-infant and San Andreas first,” he counters. From the frustrated look on her face, he realizes that the nicknames did nothing to cover up the dark sentiment of the absence of his self worth underneath the quip. To his surprise, he also realizes that he never meant them to, and in fact, he’s waiting for reassurance. That she cares.

_ What the hell?  _

Instead, she looks at him with gravity. “I swore to protect this team, and I will. Whether it’s Peter, Daisy, or a certain tin man with a death wish.” 

Despite her sarcasm, he is touched. “What happened to no promises?” He jokes, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

Natasha doesn’t smile like he thought she would. Instead, she takes a deep breath, eyes locked on his. “I’d save you, because I trust you to do the right thing,” she admits.

Tony just stares at her. “Even if you can’t trust me,” she continues, “you should know that I trust you.” He still can’t speak, frightened of the words that could come out of his mouth. He is quiet for so long that she actually allows herself to look uncertain. “I’m sorry if that’s not… okay.”

“It's okay," he blurts out, letting his fingers brush her cheek in a movement he would swear is accidental. The honesty is clear on her face, and he feels in himself just as much. "I trust you too." It feels too soon and too late all at once, but the important thing is that he means it. The words are fragile, just like their relationship. He is still afraid that a small storm could knock them over. 

Between them, things are delicate. They both know it. But, somehow, the small smile that she wears at his words and the warmth that blooms underneath his heart makes it undoubtedly worth the risk.

 

-

 

Sometimes Daisy can’t sleep. It’s usually her own demons, warring within her, leading her to wander the Tower. One night, when she is wandering on the upper levels, she hears screams.

She meets one of  the Tower’s only other two permanent occupants in the hallway outside Tony’s room. Natasha barely spares her a glance before entering, leaving Daisy to wait in the hallway. She shifts from foot to foot, impatient for news. 

FRIDAY is the one to give it to her. “Miss Romanoff requests that you go back to your room, Miss Johnson,” the AI informs her. 

Daisy backs off, though she is a little hurt. Tony and Natasha have been helping her with her panic attacks, and she wants to return the favor. And though she knows deep down that Tony would never want anyone other than Natasha seeing him like this, she’s a little bitter to be left on the outside. 

“Miss Johnson?”

“I’m going, Fry,” Daisy replies, finally making her way back down the hallway. “If they need anything…?”

The AI says nothing, but Daisy knows she’ll be called. Natasha and Tony have spent years together, she reminds herself. It’ll take time for her to be folded in moments like this. 

On the other side of the door, Natasha approaches a very much awake Tony, covered in sweat. His eyes are wide as he watches her draw nearer. He doesn’t know what made her come, but even after all they’ve been through, he still doesn’t want her to witness the aftermath of his trauma. They share almost everything now, but he keeps his nightmares close to his chest. They’d send anyone sane packing. 

“FRIDAY called me,” Natasha tells him, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. She doesn’t try to move any closer, which he appreciates. 

“Nat, please go.” He is shaking so badly than the bed feels like it is rattling.

She shakes her head with a slight grimace, but he recognizes that same stubborn expression on her face that she wore in Siberia. “No.”

“God, Romanoff, I don’t  _ want _ you here!” He yells out of the blue, hoping this will make her realize that he’s not worth the effort. Natasha doesn’t even flinch. The room is swimming before him. “God, Natasha, how the fuck did we become like this.” He is well aware of how broken he sounds, and he waits to hear the door close behind her. 

She ignores the question; maybe because it is late, but he thinks she does because it is unanswerable. But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she slides her fingers to interlace with his. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathes, shallow and ragged. “But that’s - that’s good, for now.”

She nods, moving so her back is against the headboard, never letting her fingers disengage from his.

They sit in silence for a long while. He takes the time to study her, but he’s a little afraid of looking at her face so instead he stares at the curve of her shoulder, at her hair. She is growing it out; she had told him a few days before that she cuts it for missions, for something to control. It makes him happy, to think he isn’t a mission to her. She doesn’t seem to mind his attention, but she doesn’t look back at him; instead, she stares out into the dimly lit room with a contemplative expression. It is the most patient way that anyone has ever waited for him to pull it together, and he appreciates it more than she’ll ever know.

“I dream about that night a lot.” At his words, she turns, giving him her full focus. He looks down at their joined hands. “I’ve never been so angry. Never. And Barnes was an innocent, at least I think he was.” He sounds anguished. “But Steve wasn’t.”

She says nothing still, but she can’t hide the concern in her eyes. He imagines he looks like a nightmare. “He _lied_ to me. About my mom, Tasha. And then he shoved the shield my _dead by his best friend’s hands_ father made for him into my chest. And he _knew_.”

She remains silent, squeezing his hand gently. “And you know what the worst part was? I’ve had nightmares about everyone dying. Nightmares that Wanda put into my head,” he says, jabbing his finger into his temple. His voice is so gravelly he is in awe that she can even understand him. “And seeing you all dead - in pain - it killed me. But Steve’s words hurt me the most.  _ Why couldn’t you do more?”  _ His voice is low and mocking because in his head, a facsimile of Steve’s voice threatens to drown him out. He honestly couldn’t bear to hear it right now. “And my only comfort was how strange it was. How out of character. How Captain  _ fucking _ America would never set out to hurt me like that. But he did, Nat. And now it could be real. Now, when I dream of your dead body at my feet, it’s so  _ real _ , and I know I did nothing to stop it.” 

“Tony, can I touch you?” Natasha asks softly.

He can only nod, left with no voice in the wake of his confession, and Natasha’s arms wrap around him like steel bands. He lets his head fall in the space between her shoulder and neck; there is no fight left in him. He’s just tired. “Can you stay?” He asks, anticipating her soft, yet unshakable refusal.

Instead, she shifts, pulling the covers over them both. He’s always been the one to spoon his partners, and it’s a welcome change to be cradled in someone’s arms. The room dims to complete darkness; he can’t see anything, but he can smell Natasha’s shampoo. She doesn’t stop him when he slides his own arm around her waist, prying up one of her limbs from his torso so that he can lace his fingers back with hers. “Okay?” He asks, aware of just how delicate the balance is between them.

Natasha just hums in reply, and he takes that for a yes. “Go to sleep, Tony,” she orders.

He does. And he can’t help it; he still sees her beneath his eyelids: a luminous, smiling Natasha who holds him without restraint, who cups his face in her hands, who allows him to see every part of the woman behind the spy. Although he will wake up and shake his head free of those visions, he still dreams of her.

 

-

 

Of course, being open and famous superheroes in a world that was afraid of superheroes requires a lot of press. That doesn’t mean that Natasha has to like it. 

“What did Pepper have to threaten you with to get you here?” She says under her breath to Tony, giving a soft smile to the cameras as they slowly make their way up the steps to the MET opera. A soft, dangerous smile, she corrects, as every reporter takes an unconscious step back. 

Natasha had let it slip in an interview a few weeks ago that she loved the opera, and the world must have thought she was genuine for a moment because the director of the MET had sent her tickets in the mail the next day. In loathe to lose any good press, she had accepted.

“She just reminded me that we live within close proximity of each other, and that you have killed a lot of people,” he teases, taking her arm and threading it through his. She shoots him a glare, but takes his elbow regardless. “What? I thought we promised to be honest and truthful and Cap-like.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, mild. “I distinctly remember the words ‘no promises’.” 

Tony just hums, looking over at her like he knows better. She remembers low voices and midnight, shoulders brushing, reaffirming trust. She knows better too. 

It is intermission when they strike.

Out of nowhere, a lifelike robot shoots out of the shadows, taking both of Tony’s hands in its claws. Natasha hears two sickening snaps before she has the presence of mind to pull out an electric baton from the holster on her thigh, stabbing it through the heart. 

About twenty more robots come out from the shadows. “Get out of the way!” She hears Tony shout, before she launches herself into the fray. Luckily, the robots seem focused on them as the clear threat, but still, Tony guides the civilians to huddle in the corner. He commands them to stay quiet and calm as Natasha handles the mess. 

But Natasha is only human, and eventually the robots have knocked both of the batons from her hands. She has no other weapons on her; she curses herself for not being prepared, even at an event like this. This is their life; especially now that there are only two of them. Every place could become a battleground. 

She chances a glance back at Tony; he is cradling his hands close to his chest, clearly in pain. “Did you bring a suit?” She asks, looking back to keep an eye on the robots, who are regrouping now that she has no weapons. She keeps Tony behind her, backing towards the wall away from the civilians. They are cornered now. 

“Yeah, the usual: a lovely three-piece Tom Ford,” he replies, breathless but still sarcastic in the face of danger. It’s a quality she hates to love.

“How are your hands?” 

“Broken,” he says. The robot that caught them by surprise knew what it was doing. Tony’s hands are his greatest weapons, especially with the gauntlets she knows he wears on his wrists everywhere he goes. 

“Any bright ideas?” She asks. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him fidgeting with his wrist, swearing at the pain. He presses something small into her hand. “What are you-”

“Press the button,” he orders. “It’s biomarked for your genetic signature.”

It is a sign of how much her trust in him has grown that she presses it without hesitation, watching the nanotechnology crawl up her skin until she has a gleaming, black Iron man gauntlet outfitted to her forearm. She has no time to marvel at the sleek weapon, no time to pay attention to the small red hourglass on the wrist. The robots have holes through their heads before anyone else in the room can blink. 

Their victory is met with resounding applause from the opposite corner, but Natasha is only focused on getting Tony out of the open as quickly as possible. She wraps his arm around her shoulder, hauling him to his feet, picking up her batons on the way out. The gauntlet remains on her arm, warning away police and reporters as she helps her teammate into the black car waiting for them, waving away Happy’s concerns. “To the tower, please,” she orders, waiting for the screech of wheels on the asphalt to turn and examine Tony’s wrists. 

“Broken,” she concludes, after pressing into the blossom of bruises appearing on his skin. Tony shudders, and she gently rubs her fingers over the injury as an apology. “I’ll call Helen.” 

Tony is quiet, more quiet than she’s seen him in a long time. He’s just watching her, dark eyes tracking her movements as she holds his wrist in both of her hands, running the pads of her fingers over the affected area. There is something gaping between them, deep and poignant, and it makes Natasha more uncomfortable than she’d care to admit. 

“Pepper’s going to ban you from the lab,” she observes, unnerved by his stare.

He seems to shake awake, cracking a smile. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“I’m going to tell her,” Natasha tells him point blank, reassured that everything is okay.

“Traitor,” Tony retorts, but his voice is light and affectionate. He doesn’t stop looking at her in this strange, new way, and Natasha refuses to acknowledge the terrible knot she felt in her stomach as she shielded him, or the relief she feels now after seeing the minimal damage. All signs, she fears, that something is changing.

 

-

 

Rhodey finds her in the common room, watching the press coverage from the opera. She has to admit they make a striking, efficient pair, drawing civilians away from the line of fire. She watches Tony become a leader, and watches her own relentless, exacting onslaught that ended the strike. Even better for them: they had never been the focus of the attack in the first place. Instead, some angry genius mechanic had been furious at his ex-boss, a billionaire investor who had attended the opera that same night. 

They are not the cause, but they  _ are _ the solution. It’s the best case scenario, especially to the UN. 

So when Rhodey shows up, she thinks it must be good news. Instead, he looks serious and not a little troubled, opening with no one’s favorite words: 

“We need to talk.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to sit down across from her, easing his legs out from under him. Even after months, she still feels a jolt of guilt at the sight of the metal brackets that allow him to walk. His hands are folded on his knees, but he leans forward, waiting for her go-ahead to speak. “About?” She allows.

He rubs his forehead. “Those gauntlets that Tony made you, that you used two days ago...”

Natasha leans back; she’s quite fond of her new, in-case-of-emergency suit, and she’ll protect her right to use it. Tony sure as hell won’t let it be taken away from her, from them. “I won’t be using them against or for the American government, if  _ that’s _ what-”

“No, that’s not why I’m here,” Rhodey sighs, leaning back on the sofa as well. Natasha stands to get rid of the ansty feeling coursing through her, watching him carefully. “You know what it means, right? Tony doesn’t just make suits for everyone.”

A smile threatens her expression; she fights to keep it neutral. Their relationship isn’t for anyone else to understand, and she feels more possessive over it than she’d thought possible. Neither of them share very well. “He makes suits for his friends, the people he trusts,” she answers, with a sharp, thrilling feeling in her chest. Tony’s trust is still so new and precious. 

Rhodey shakes his head. “No, Natasha, Tony makes suits for people he loves.” 

_ Loves? _ She freezes. “What?” She whispers after a long silence.

“He loves you,” Rhodey repeats. “And from the way he watches you  _ all the time _ , it’s not just platonic friendly love either.”

She sits down hard on the couch, and Rhodey waits while she processes. Could Tony love her? She remembers his expression two nights ago, just looking at her, piercing and wordless. They’re close, of course, but she never hoped to have another true romantic relationship in her lifetime. The better question is: could she love Tony?  

She remembers the way he let her climb into his bed for the first time, the way he’s stayed with her just as many nights as she’s stayed with him. The way they always start so far apart, and wake with their fingers touching, legs entwined. Tony makes her feel warm, and she would be a liar if she hadn’t imagined them together in a physical way; he’s exactly her type. But truly, everything pales in comparison to how she feels human around him, not like the monster she’s always known herself to be. Other women might want men that protect them, that provide for their every need, but Natasha can take care of herself. Tony, instead, makes her feel worthy. He makes her feel valued, and not just for her skillset. He has given her a semblance of family in Peter and Daisy. All things that she had lost a long time ago. Could she love him? 

How could she not?

But she can’t let Rhodey realize that this is something she has known for a long time, something that has made sense to her for months, because he might try to become some sort of matchmaker and she refuses to put that on either one of them. “You’re wrong,” she tells him instead, giving him a tight smile.

He gives her a wry, tired smile in return. Tony’s best friend cannot be fooled so easily. “You know I’m right.”

There is another long pause. Finally, she turns to him. “You mention this to no one,” she orders. Rhodey holds up his hands in surrender. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s already done his part as protective best friend. Tony saunters into the room seconds later, showing off his mostly healed hands to a stoic Natasha, who cracks when Tony sits next to her, laying an unconscious hand on her thigh. She slides her hand over his in what one could only call a natural movement, glaring at Rhodey from behind Tony, who is too animated about Peter’s latest invention to notice. 

Rhodey thinks maybe he is wrong to be wary at all; Natasha might turn out to be the fiercest protector his very deserving best friend could ever need. So instead of giving her a frown, he just smiles. From her brief lapse into surprise before she looks away, he thinks the smile turns out to be far more terrifying than any threat he could ever deliver. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment if you want more Feelings™️


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings!!!! i hope i kept this two in character bc they mean so much to me<3

 

 

A week or so after the robot incident, Tony finds Peter on the roof, dangling his legs off the side of the skyscraper. Tony joins him, knowing a suit will catch them both if need be.

“Y’know, when May told me you could stay in the tower for a week to work on your training, she warned me that you needed to stay healthy. Pretty sure that includes a good night’s sleep,” he teases the boy, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Peter gives him a shaky smile. “I know. Please don’t tell her, I… I just needed to think.”

Amidst thoughts of the UN and the ex-Avengers, Tony could use a Peter Parker problem right now. Surely nothing can be as bad as a few months ago, when he went off grid and nearly got crushed by a building while Nat and he were attending a meeting in India. “What’s the problem, kid?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing - to you, anyway. It’s not superhero stuff.” 

“I’m asking anyways.” 

Peter peers up at him, face scarlet from blushing. “It’s a girl, Mr. Stark.” Tony just stares at him, trying his best not to laugh, and Peter takes this as permission to ramble on. “And I know it’s pointless to ask you about asking a girl out, because you’re  _ Tony Stark _ , and you’re in the coolest relationship ever. But maybe there was a time when you were-”

Tony stops him, warning bells ringing in his head. “Whoa, hold up, stop the presses. I’m in the what?” He must’ve just heard wrong.

Apparently, somehow he didn’t because Peter just eyes him with a furrowed brow. “The coolest relationship… ever?” He repeats, slow and confused, and there is actually a moment where Tony has no words.

Finally, he scoffs, gripping the edge of the roof. “Look, Pete, you gotta ignore the tabloids. I’m not in a relationship.”  _ I don’t deserve it,  _ he thinks. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Yeah, look, I know you and Natasha have to stay a secret because of all the bad guys out there, but it’s pretty obvious.” 

Tony nearly falls off the building, gaping at Peter like a fish out of water. He feels like one too. “Parker, Nat and I are in no way, shape, or form - together.” Peter opens his mouth to reply, but it’s Tony’s turn to ramble. “I mean, that’s literally crazy. Can you imagine? We fight all the time, she scares the shit out of me every time I do something stupid, I’ve nearly gotten her killed several times. So what if she’s the most incredible woman I know? Can you imagine…” He trails off, trying to stop himself from imagining. He’s shocked how easy it is. Healthy relationships have always been elusive to the Starks, and now he can just picture curling up with Nat on the couch, buying her cool gifts and updating her gear, fighting side by side until every foe is at their feet.

Maybe it’s easy to imagine because it’s so… normal. 

He pulls himself out of his thoughts, checking on Peter. The boy’s eyes are so wide that they look like they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “Are you the only person who thinks this?” Tony adds, watching the boy carefully for a lie.

Peter gulps, caught out. “Um, Daisy says she ships it, so...”

“I don’t wanna know what shipping means, please don’t explain,” Tony says, standing. “FRIDAY, is Daisy in her room?”

“Miss Johnson is in her lab, Mr. Stark. Would you like me to call her for you?”

“No, I’m gonna go see her myself.” Peter sounds like he’s choking behind him. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that girl, Spiderling!” He shouts, racing down to the elevator. 

Daisy is typing away when he skids into the room. “Hey, 9.5 on the Richter Scale, am I in a relationship?”

She just stares at him over her computer, fingers never stopping. She has been working nonstop on some code that T’Challa’s younger sister sent her, a slip of a teenager that might match him toe to toe in mechanical engineering. He’s been looking forward to meeting her for a while. “What?” Daisy asks, thrown off guard.

“Do you think I’m in a relationship?” He repeats. 

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “What, you and Natasha finally decided to come out?”

Tony shakes his head, slumping into the nearest chair. His head drops into his hands. “Oh god,” he mutters, trying to breathe. 

“Whoa, Mr. Robot, you okay? Stark?” She tries, shaking him. “Tony?” Now she sounds worried.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he pushes away her hands. “It’s just… Nat and I  _ aren’t  _ together. Never were.”  

“Yeah, tell that to literally every magazine and everyone who has seen you two together in the past year,” Daisy observes, patting him on the shoulder with sympathy. 

“Fuck.” There is no better word to describe this situation. Natasha and he don’t read the tabloids; they have their hands full with actual news and world disasters and pretty much everything except celebrity gossip.

Daisy crouches next to him. “I mean, it’s no big deal, right? It’s not like you’re actually in lo-”

“Daisy Johnson,” he interrupts, more serious than she has ever seen him. “Please, shut up.” Thankfully, she does, though she has a little sparkle in her eye that he ignores. A sparkle that says she knows exactly what she is doing.

“I need to call Rhodey - I mean Pepper - I mean,” he trails off.

“Call Pepper,” Daisy offers. “She’ll know what to do.”

 

-

 

Tony avoids everyone for the next fourteen hours. Daisy, Natasha, and T’Challa are having their final meeting about the Accords in the morning, and Tony knows that it’s his small window of opportunity to call Pepper without any chance that Natasha will walk in.

Pepper picks up the phone with a deep sigh. “Please tell me this isn’t an excuse regarding the meeting in two days.”

Tony would chuckle at her deep understanding of how he operates if he wasn’t still so off-kilter. Then, he realizes he’s about to talk to his ex-girlfriend about his love for another woman. “This was a bad idea, sorry Pep, I’ll be there on Wednesday-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down Tony,” she cautions, “what’s going on?” 

He exhales. “It’s Natasha.” 

“What happened?”   


“Nothing. Nothing happened.”

“Then what’s the problem?”   


“ _ That’s  _ the problem.” 

He can almost hear her throwing her hands in the air. “Then what’s the- oh…  _ oh. _ ”

“Give the woman a medal,” he says to mask the rapid staccato of his heart. 

There is a long pause. “Have you two-”

“ _ No _ , no. Nothing has happened,” he reminds her. He kind of wishes he had a phone to clutch in his hand. As it is, he is gripping the edge of his workbench. Of course this is going to be awkward. Why did he think this would be a good idea? 

“And you want something to…?”

“No! Yes. I mean, kind of? I mean, have you seen her?”

Pepper balks. “Oh god, we are not having this conversation, Tony.”

“No no, Pep, you’re the only one I trust to give it to me straight!”

His ex-girlfriend sighs. “Listen, Tony, I don’t care and/or want to hear about you sleeping around with your teammate.” Tony opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “But I suspect that isn’t what this is.” 

“No, I-”

Pepper sighs again, but Tony can hear the slight smile in her voice. “Tony Stark, don’t you think she deserves to hear it first?” 

Tony slowly releases his grip on the bench, taking a deep breath. The world swims away and he focuses on her words. Hear it first? Hear what? That he loves her? He’s not sure that it’s true.

He thinks of the feeling of her feet tucked under his thighs, of the surety in her voice when she defends their actions to the Panel, the delicate weight of her when he carries her in the suit. 

The worry in her eyes, the warmth when she examined his broken hands. 

The uncertainty fades away. Whether he loves her or not, Pepper’s right. She deserves to hear it first. 

That doesn’t solve his question of whether to tell her at all. 

 

-

 

Tony is waist deep in Science! when Natasha find him in the lab. She is going to visit Laura and Clint, who could really use someone around the house for a couple hours to watch the kids while they have a nice dinner in. It had taken Laura a while to forgiven her husband, but she is kind and understanding and Clint is above all a good man, a good father. And the house arrest has been a blessing in disguise to the family, whose bond has grown so tight that it hurts Tony’s heart to think of maybe one day possessing something so precious. 

Natasha is wearing a pair of dark-wash skin tight jeans and one of Daisy’s sweaters, all in all her normal clothes. But Tony’s conversation with the two younger part time Avengers and Pepper has rattled him and he can’t quite control his mouth. 

“You look beautiful,” he blurts out, fighting the urge to slap a hand over his mouth.  _ What the hell?  _ When did he turn into a teenager? 

Natasha quirks a brow at him, and god, he hadn’t been lying. He aches just to hold her in his arms, to admire her for hours if they ever had the time, and  _ yep he’s a teenager again _ . “Thanks,” she drawls, probably sizing him up for a concussion. “For someone covered in grease, you don’t look too bad yourself.” She lets her eyes trail across his chest and arms, and Tony is shocked; surely she’s seen much better. They lived with Thor for a few months, for god’s sake. 

It is Natasha’s turn to affect wide eyes at Tony’s confused look. “I’m gonna go,” she adds quickly, turning on her heel.

“Hey, Nat, wait up,” he shouts, following her into the hallway. “That’s it? No goodbye for your only teammate?”  _ Jesus, what is he saying? _

In that moment, Tony acknowledges just how desperate he is. Natasha has wormed in way into his inner circle; losing her friendship would be devastating. He doubts he’ll ever have the courage to change things between them, because regardless of what Pepper says, it still took them years to get together.  _ Years. _

Still, he’ll embarrass himself if it means an extra moment or two with her. 

“I saved your cookies from Peter last night,” he reminds her, watching as she pushes the button for the elevator. “It was very difficult to convince him that you’re actually capable of murdering him - say, are you? I mean the kid has a pretty cute face even if he can be a pain in the ass, don’t cha think-?”

His rambling comes to a swift halt when Natasha marches up to him, brushing a soft kiss over his cheek. He can hardly breathe. 

“Bye, Tony,” she says, voice low. Her smirk is almost sultry, but Tony brushes it off; Natasha flirts with everyone, right? 

“See ya, Nat,” he manages to reply, giving her a laissez-faire salute. “Say hi to the kids for me.” 

“They miss their Uncle Tony,” she reminds him; she is in the elevator now, pressing the button to keep the doors open. 

“Pep would kill me,” he warns her.

Natasha considers this; it’s probably true. “I’ll tell them you’ll be there next time.” There is a subtle warning in her tone, but Tony knows it is for his own sake more than hers. 

She gives him a final nod before releasing the button; he watches her disappear beyond the doors.

Deep down, he knows he’d be okay if nothing ever happened. He has her friendship, and it is genuine and trusting and everything he ever wanted with his teammates. Clint is coming around as well, and they make fierce defenders of him. It is more than he ever deserved. 

But Peter’s revelation has shaken him, and the following conversation with Pepper had been enlightening. These feelings had snuck up on him, growing more and more every day like a single spark as it becomes a furnace. 

He wants her. Of course he wants her. But he’s okay to just wait. 

Pulling up the specs on their next mission in a week and a half, he ignores the sinking feeling that he could be waiting forever. 

 

-

 

The mission isn't supposed to be easy, and the henchmen are surprisingly good shots, so Tony and Natasha split up to take them down. They are nearing a win when Tony hears six shots in quick succession and a grunt from his fellow Avenger. When he sees Natasha go down hard, he doesn’t think much of it. They both drop like flies all the time, him even more so than her, but they always get back up. They have to get back up; they’re two of the only full time defenders the Earth really has. They always get back up, he reminds himself again, when Natasha doesn’t move right away.

He gives her another thirty seconds. She stays down.

Tony’s heart drops to his stomach, and his vision goes white. A second later, he realizes he can’t be half-assed to preserve the lives of these villains, fuck the UN, and within another second, the rest of the them are dead.

“Nat,” he calls, dropping to his knees beside her. It’s awkward in the suit, but he doesn’t even notice, retracting the helmet so he can look at her with his own eyes. “Nat!” He repeats, louder and sharper, and he sighs in relief when she opens her eyes.

“Tony.” She has a hard time saying his name, and it is then he notices all the blood. She had been shot. Twice. 

_ God, he should’ve forced her into the armor. Her catsuit is never enough, has never been enough, and it’s all his fault. She’s dying and it’s his fault, it’s always his fault- _

But he says none of that. “You’re gonna be okay,” he tells her instead, but it feels more like an order. She  _ has _ to be okay. He carefully slides his hands under her back and her knees, shifting her into his arms before standing. “It’s gonna be fine - you’re barely hurt. Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re going to be  _ fine _ -”

The endearment slips in without his approval, but he means it, truly means it, means it so much his heart feels like it could burst, and he honest to God can’t help it anymore.

Natasha shudders in his arms; though he can’t feel it through the suit, he can see it. She is so pale, but still, she tries to speak. “I think we could’ve been more,” she confesses, forehead pressed against his neck. She is coughing, strangled by the fluid filling up her throat. Her mouth is blood red, the same red that stains his suit. He tries not to think about it; instead, he focuses on her. “If this is…” She can’t even finish the sentence. “You should know that,” she continues instead. “You deserve to-”

Because of course it would take someone getting shot for the words to come.

“You’re damn right,” he tells her, voice rough, moving her as fast as he dares. He is too terrified to fly. “I deserve to have you here,  _ alive, _ so stop talking. Seriously, the emotion is freaking me out. Give me killer Barbie if that’s the alternative - God, Natasha, just please hold on -  _ Nat - _ ” 

“Tony, please don’t,” she whispers, letting her head falls against his shoulder. Then, she stays silent, and he’s honestly afraid to look down.

He knows now that he loves her. How could he not? She’s incredible: smart, gorgeous, witty, broken. She has comforted him through his midnight panic attacks, and she held him through his halting retelling of Siberia. He loves how she teases him and doesn’t put up with any shit, his or otherwise. He loves that she is a superhero in her own right, and that she understands how precious Ironman is to him. They really are too similar, he has realized, a conclusion he never would’ve reached without the past year of learning each other all over again. They fit together. And he trusts her. He respects her. Of course he loves her. 

He loves her enough to know that she doesn’t want to hear it, at least not yet, though the words bubble up inside of him like a cresting wave. “Have I told you that redheaded, secret-keeping ex-assassins turned superheroes are my type?” He jokes, voice strained, finally looking down to see her smiling up at him. It’s ruined by the pain she’s trying so hard to hide. He hears sirens outside; the ambulance is here. 

They take her from his arms, and the ambulance whirs to life. He follows closely in the suit, trying not to think. 

Daisy meets him outside surgery; she’s been running point for them from a nearby hotel. She holds a phone out to him, apologetic. “Can’t say no to my idol,” she says, shrugging.

He lifts the phone to his ear. “Rogers,” he barks. “She’s fine.”

_ You don’t know that. She could be dead. She could be gone, and then who will be on your side? Daisy and Peter will hate you for not saving her. They’ll leave you. Everyone leaves. And you’ll be alone.  _

“Um, this is Clint,” sure-enough-it’s-Clint says. Tony’s pity party ends immediately as his eyes widen, though he knows he doesn’t have time for this. “Keep this off the record but you should know that I’m taking a screwdriver to this anklet if her condition isn’t reported to me every five minutes.” Clint stops for a sharp inhale of surprise, realizing the significance of Tony’s mistake. “Wait a fucking second, you actually took this thinking it was Cap?”

Tony can’t quite believe it himself. “She’s going to be fine,” he repeats, handing the phone back to Daisy, whose favorite Avenger is definitely spangly pants. He narrows his eyes at her. “Keep him updated,” he orders, “and we’ll be having a long conversation about not using Black Widow moves unless you’re the Black Widow later.” 

“Sir yes sir,” she parrots, mockingly saluting him. But he can see the concern and fear in her eyes as they wait by the door. 

“You look like you need to say something,” Daisy observes, watching him watch the solid metal and plastic keeping him from Natasha. 

“To her,” Tony replies, not taking his eyes away from where he imagines Natasha drowning in tubes and scrubs and blood. Daisy makes a confused noise. “I need to say something to her,” he corrects. They share no words or thoughts about ‘ _ if _ ’. The moment that ‘ _ if _ ’ enters Tony’s vocabulary, he’ll lose his composure and his mind.

“It’s about damn time,” Daisy murmurs under her breath. Tony doesn’t dignify it with a response. 

 

-

 

Tony never really does say anything, because when he sees Natasha lying there, pale but awake, they share a look that conveys all the things he wanted to say in the first place. For the first time since he can remember, he feels truly understood. He makes his way to her bedside, taking the hand that she stretches out towards him. Holding it with gentle fingers, he plants a chaste kiss on her thumb. He remembers when he first met the real her, returning her vicious Latin with a quip about her ability to kill someone six ways with only that digit. How far they have come since then.

All in all, he’s pissed that she took such a risk and worried that it could happen again, but the yelling and hashing out can happen tomorrow. The last of the Avengers sit together, alone in a hospital room, injured and holding hands like children, and the world should be terrified. 

Only, Clint is still yapping on the phone to Daisy, who is giving a statement to the press on Natasha’s health in an hour. Peter is, at this very moment, swinging around Brooklyn. Rhodey is in the Compound, ready to give the Accords to a new group of Inhumans who want to fight the good fight. Vision and T’Challa are within reach, and Natasha has been in contact with Wanda. Thor and Bruce are still missing in action, but somehow, Tony knows that they are alive and fighting their own battles. Sam will come with Steve, and Steve… Steve is only one call away. 

It’s funny how it takes being the last Avenger for several horrible, gut-wrenching minutes for Tony to realize there are more Avengers in this universe than he’s ever imagined. Some are hiding, missing, or part-time, and some he can hardly bear to think of. But they are still there, whether he likes it or not. And deep down, that is even more comforting than seeing Natasha’s weary smile and unclouded eyes, though the latter is infinitely more precious. 

Things just fall into place after that. 

Tony seeks Natasha in the Tower more often than before, and he has no anxiety about it whatsoever because he is always granted a rare smile when he enters her space. They still argue about Peter and Daisy and the Accords but more often than not they just sit together in silence. Tony rubs her shoulders and Natasha sits on his lap with a book and makes herself at home. 

Two days after they return, Tony decides enough is enough and follows Natasha to her bedroom. He does not ask for permission to join her in the bathroom to get ready for bed. There is no delicacy between them anymore; neither of them are waiting for the other to break. Natasha has always treated people as if they are either glass or steel, but Tony is just warm and human, unbreakable like stone against her will and pliable like clay beneath her arms. It is a breath of fresh air.

When he exits the bathroom, she is already in bed. There is no book or phone in her hands, zero distractions, and he realizes that the looks they shared in the hospital were never enough. There’s a conversation to be had, and she wants it to be now. In all honesty, he feels the same. 

“Move over,” he requests, sitting down on the bed once she’s shifted a little. The light is already low, so she can’t see him, but she can feel him. He rolls onto his side, barely hovering over her. The words that have laid on his chest since he begged a god he didn’t believe in for her life shift into his throat, ready to come out. 

“You died, for a minute,” he begins, his voice soft and hard all at once.

“I know,” she replies, and she leans up to kiss him. They have shared many chaste pecks over the years, in the friendly and distant world they had created. Neither of them have any hang ups about being physical like that; instead, it tends to be the emotional touches, the new and powerful ones, that are the most terrifying. However, none of the kisses she has ever bestowed on anyone have ever felt like this: warm and affectionate and certain. She lifts her hand to his chin, using it to tilt him closer. His goatee scratches against her cheek, but she doesn’t mind. For the first time, Natasha longs for something to show that this is permanent. That they are permanent. 

And he gives it to her. Tony altogether kisses her like she is glass and like he is starving. Her wound aches a little, but not enough to cause this level of attentiveness. She keeps her eyes wide open, hoping to see him, to understand what he is feeling, but it is too dark and he is too close. She slides her other hand up into her hair and pulls him closer, and he groans against her mouth, finally pushing a little harder.

Their kisses last a long while, but it is Natasha who ends it, pushing Tony’s head to rest on her collarbone. He just breathes for a moment, before speaking: “I’m afraid,” he admits.

Natasha is too afraid of losing him to lie to him; she wonders, when it comes to what’s important, if she will ever do so again. Only if his life depended on it, she decides, resolving to do her best to keep him from that state in the first place. “Me too.”

“This helps,” he tells her. She feels the words against her clavicle, Tony’s soft breathing skimming over her neck. It reminds her that he’s alive. That he’s with her. 

That decides her. “Then let’s do something about it.”

She feels the confusion rolling off of him. “What-”

“I’m moving to your room, though. Bed’s bigger.”

She can tell he wants to say something else, to continue this rare moment of total transparency, but instead he just mumbles his assent and rolls to his side of the bed to try to sleep. When she wakes up the next morning, his head is pillowed on her stomach. She thinks it might be because that way, he can ensure she’s breathing.

It is a small gesture compared to the ones other suitors have made. She runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of neck, and he groans, peering up to look at her with bleary eyes. Before long, a smile spreads across his face, bright and blinding in its sheer joy. 

“Good morning,” he whispers.

Natasha decides that, if all her mornings for the rest of her days begin like this one, happiness might not be so unreachable after all. 

 

-

 

Daisy has never been stupid. She takes one look at Tony and Natasha in that hospital room and knows that everything has changed. There is something poignant and breathtaking about the two broken Defenders of Earth clinging to each other that it actually compels her to look away.

The rest of the world takes a while to catch up.

It is only when the revised Accords are approved that Tony pulls Natasha into his orbit in broad daylight, in a room with hundreds of cameras, brushing a light kiss over her lips. He pulls back after a few beats, but only just, tilting his head close to her ear and murmuring something with a smirk on his face. 

That image, intimate and familiar, of the new power couple of superheroes makes every headline the following morning.

Surprisingly, it is T’Challa that quietens all fear and unease at the news. 

“Natasha and Tony have become very close friends of mine over the past year,” he says to reporters outside his private jet. He had flown in for the UN meeting, but considering the new initiative of collaboration that Wakanda is spearheading, his time is quite in demand. “They deserve the best, and the best is each other.”

“Do you think their relationship could interfere with their duty to protect the Earth?” One plucky reporter asks. 

One of T’Challa’s bodyguards starts forward at the sheer audacity of the question, but T’Challa just holds up a hand. “As far as I’m concerned, the Avengers have done plenty for all of you. Happiness is fleeting, Miss. We must take what we can, and fight for what we love.”

The reporter opens her mouth again, but it is Okoye, who has had plenty of enjoyable spars with Natasha Romanoff, a women who she considers an ally, that responds this time. “No more questions,” she orders, and the reporter takes a step back, mumbling under her breath. 

T’Challa smiles at his right hand woman once they are comfortably settled on the plane. “Your time is well spent with Miss Romanoff, then?” Okoye tilts her head in agreement. “I still would very much like to see that match.”

“Stark said the same thing,” she observes with a sharp smirk. “I’m afraid we women have no desire to be ogled by a bunch of men who we can easily take in hand-to-hand combat.”

“I will not dispute that, Okoye,” he replies, holding up his hands in surrender. “Perhaps, it is because we have much to learn.”

Okoye chuckles. “Now  _ that  _ is a good reason.” 

“And how is your training with young Miss Maximoff coming along?”

Okoye continues to smirk. “Well enough that between the Black Widow, Quake, the Scarlet Witch, and the Dora Milaje, you all might as well just retire.”

T’Challa shrugs. “And with my sister…”

This time, it is  Xoliswa who speaks from the cockpit in their native Wakandian. “My King, just do not make us angry.”

Nakia snaps a photo of T’Challa’s face at the comment, sending it to Natasha and Daisy along with a brief explanation. Daisy responds with a string of emojis, and Natasha responds with one word, Tony hanging over her shoulder and laughing.

_ ‘Good.’ _

With that, she reaches up to stop his laughter and the rest of the world with her mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEP. okay i'm writing an iw epilogue for this - tell me in the comments: do you want me to fix iw? or keep thanos winning but at least nat and tony can come home to each other? help i'm conflicted.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so sappy but i'm not even sorry

 

 

One year later, it is Natasha who walks alongside Tony in the park when Stephen Strange opens a portal right in front of them. Natasha drops into a defensive pose, but straightens in shock when Bruce stumbles out behind him. He hugs Tony, then Natasha, then looks at them for a long minute. She knows why; they definitely look domestic, at this point in their relationship. Even their body language is different, and Bruce has always been excellent at reading them both.

“Is everything…” He begins, his brow furrowed.

“We’re together, buddy. The tabloids even gave us a celebrity name, which is, like, as _together_ as together can get,” Tony interrupts, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Natasha elbows his side in irritation.

“That’s not important right now, Tony,” she mutters as Bruce’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Sorry, _honey_ ,” he teases, and though he feels a little bad for agitating a clearly distraught Bruce, he does not want to hear any misguided attempts from him trying to rekindle their former half-relationship. Natasha knows his angle, and makes it clear that she’ll have no part of it when she shrugs his arm off her shoulder.

Strange leads them back to his headquarters while Bruce explains Thanos’ plan and how powerful he is. The sorcerer studies Tony and Natasha closely, staying quiet throughout the explanation before narrowing his eyes at them. “There is something different,” he begins, “and it’s you two. I can’t explain it… but the Time Stone jolts every time I look at you.”

“Maybe it’s broken,” Tony quips, but he can’t help but move closer to his partner. In a rare moment of public affection, Natasha takes his hand in hers.

Strange shakes his head. “No, there’s something more,” he replies, closing his eyes as a slight green glow begins to emanate from him. Tony wishes this was the weirdest thing he had ever seen, but it’s not even in the top one hundred. They give him a moment, watching the green glow fade as he opens his eyes, looking at them with certainty and dread. It’s not a good look, and Tony moves even closer to Natasha, readying his gauntlets. This wizard seems cool and everything, he thinks, but Tony would still bet on the Hulk, Black Widow, and Ironman kicking his ass. “If you two fight together against Thanos,” he says slowly, “we will lose.”

Tony glares at him, though he leaves the gauntlets off. Strange doesn’t seem like he is planning on fighting them on this one; instead, he seems he has already resolved that they’ll do as he says. Tony dislikes that almost as much. “If this is as big as the Big Guy says,” he retorts, “I’m not leaving her side.”

All the sudden, the noise level rises outside. Strange shakes his head. “We don’t have a lot of time,” he argues as his cape swoops around his shoulders.

“I thought you controlled time!” Tony’s voice rises. “What part of ‘I’m not leaving her’ do you not understand?”

“Tony,” Natasha says quietly. “Tony…”

He turns to her, pleading, taking her other hand in his. “No. No, no, no. You promised, sweetheart. You promised.” He’s well aware that he probably sounds pitiful, but he doesn’t care. He’d beg if it meant she’d stay. "Nat-" he tries to find more words, but panic is bubbling up in his throat and he's well aware that they are beholden to this earth. Even if, sometimes, he wants to take everyone he loves away from all the pain and suffering and leave it to burn behind them. 

“We have to take it day by day,” she whispers, a memory of how broken they were in the past, and Tony’s heart shatters.

“Your place is with Captain Rogers,” Strange claims. “If you go with Stark, the Witch will die and all hope is lost.”

“How do we even know he’s telling the truth? He could be working with Thanos; we don’t even know this guy!” Tony is desperate.

Natasha looks up at him, releasing his hand to brush her fingertips through his hair. Calm sweeps through him, but it feels artificial. She knows what she’s doing, and a tiny, selfish part of him hates her for that. The bigger part knows she’s doing what she has to in order to save the world, and he loves her even more. “I have to protect the team.”

His eyes go dark, focusing in on her. He brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm, murmuring a promise against her fingers: “If you die, I have nothing left to live for.”

Daisy and Peter and Pepper and Rhodey run through their minds. Tony’s lie is sweet, but it is still a lie. “We both know that’s not true.”

Strange interrupts, though he actually looks regretful in doing so. “She needs to leave. Now.”

Natasha yanks him in close, leaning up and pressing her lips to his. He’s never held anyone as close as he is holding Natasha in this moment, fingers digging into the skin of her hips as his other hand tangles in her hair. He doesn't care about the two sets of eyes on them, pulling her in even closer. The world around them narrows to this point, and for several seconds, he lets it. Just like he lets her treat their embrace like a fight, her arms like steel bands around his back, because he knows if she didn’t she’d melt and she has to be an hero.

Tony pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers. “Go,” he says. “Go,” he repeats, shedding the facade of all of his personas and leaving just Tony Stark, “and know that part of me goes with you. I love you,” he admits, not for the first time and, he hopes, not for the last.

Natasha cups his face in her hands, pressing one last kiss to his cheek. “I’m spending the rest of my life with you, Tony. That’s not ending today. Be safe,” she orders before letting go.

Strange opens the portal, waving his hand in a burst of orange sparks. “This will take you to Captain Rogers.”

Natasha shakes her head. “Take me to T’Challa.”

“But-” She glares, and he sighs. “Very well.”

With one last look at Tony, she falls through the portal. Twenty minutes later, she watches on a screen as the man she loves falls off the face of the Earth.

Okoye places a gentle hand on her shoulder; Natasha gives her a stiff smile in return. “We have work to do,” she begins. “But first, I need to make a call.”

 

-

 

Natasha stands on T’Challa’s left when the Ex-Avengers land in Wakanda. Wanda rushes over to her the second she comes into view, clasping her hands and greeting her with a worried expression.

“I heard the news about your partner,” she says, holding onto her tightly. Her eyes betray her clear earnestness, for which Natasha is grateful. “Is he alright?”

“We know as much as you do,” she admits, accepting Rhodey’s hug as he watches her like she’s bound to break any second. He should know her better by now, she thinks, but some part of her swells at his loyalty. She’s never felt like she deserved it. “We have much to prepare for here. Thanos is coming for Vision.”

Just as they are turning to go back inside, she hears a soft plea. “Natasha…” Steve trails off.

“Not now, Rogers,” she replies, short and certain, turning to speak to Okoye. In so many ways, Steve is her best friend, just like Clint is her brother. They have been through so much together, and though she understands why he did what he did regarding the Accords, she doesn’t know if she can forgive him so soon for what he did to Tony.

“Hey, Nat, congrats - you and Tony seemed really happy, y’know, before the aliens came,” Sam throws out in the gulf between the two groups, approaching her with an outstretched hand. She eyes him, not moving. “Look, there’s bad blood, I know. But we have a common enemy,” he reminds her, before scratching his head. “Besides, I missed you, Romanoff.”

She sighs, taking his hand and squeezing his shoulder with her left. “Missed you too, birdbrain,” she says, and the whole room exhales.

Steve tries once more before the battle, as they watch the aliens throw themselves against the barrier.

“Natasha,” he begins, low and pleading. She knows she’ll have to talk to him eventually, and she’s not sure why he’s choosing now.

She refuses to look at him. “You almost killed him, Steve. Did you know that?”

“He almost killed Bucky, Nat,” Steve replies; she can feels his eyes on her. “I had to make him stop. I would’ve preferred a better solution, _any_ solution.”

She turns to look at him then, hoping her eyes burn into him then way that his words and actions burned into Tony. “Then you should’ve stayed.”

Steve is silent for a moment, then: “I’m sorry, Nat. Maybe I’m not as strong as you.” He sighs, more tired and uncertain than she has ever seen him. “I did what I thought was best.”

She looks back at the aliens, who have begun to make their way through the barrier. “We all did,” she replies. “And we’re about to pay the price.”

Steve focuses forward, becoming the captain that she knows and respects. She will never lose her love for this man, and she hopes that they can fix what’s broken between them. But she’ll stand by Tony. Even if she disagrees with him, she knows now they’ll always find a compromise. She hopes Steve will find a way to respect that.

“We’ll talk after,” he promises, and from the look in his eyes, he believes it. She does too.

 

-

 

But there is no after.

They lose. Of course they lose; somehow, she had known the instant she had seen Strange. A villain that caused superheroes to come together on this scale? He had simply been too strong.

And now Vision’s broken body and Wanda’s ashes lay scattered on the ground before them. Natasha cradles Daisy’s head in her lap; the young woman had managed to hold back Thanos longer than the rest of them, but she had paid a heavy price. The Titan had thrown her into a tree, and the echo of her head hitting the wood had been so loud that Natasha fears the worst.

“We need to get Quake to Shuri, if…” She trails off. If Shuri is still alive, she can’t say.

Okoye stumbles from the trees. “The King is dead,” she cries, her grief evident. Thor takes her arm to keep her upright. “The King is dead,” she repeats, disbelieving.

“We need to regroup,” Steve says; the pain in his voice sounds like an open wound feels.

It takes a long time. No one moves, until they do.

 

-

 

Natasha doesn’t find Tony. Tony is the one who finds her.

Actually, he nearly collapses against the door at the sight of her. “You’re alive,” he breathes. They don’t move towards each other, just drinking in every expression and every injury.

Natasha eyes his side. “You’re hurt,” she realizes.

He waves a hand. “I should be dead,” he grits out, passing a hand over his eyes before they rapidly find her again, as if worried she’ll disappear right before his eyes. It’s not even an unfounded fear, not anymore. “I was stabbed, but _he’s just ashes_. In my arms, Nat," he tells her, rubbing his hands together as if he can still feel the grit of Peter's remains. "He was so young, Natasha. He had so much to live for.”

Natasha’s breath hitches. “Peter…?” She asks, but she knows the answer. Tony nods anyway.

“I’m afraid you aren’t real,” he admits. “That you’re gone too. That I failed everyone I love.”

She feels the same. “Daisy’s alive,” she tells him instead of acknowledging the cloud of suffering and failure that hangs above their heads. Half their friends are gone; not even their bodies are left to prove that they had existed. Except Vision, that is, whose cracked and broken body lives now behind Natasha’s eyelids. “She hit her head pretty hard, but… Shuri says she’ll be fine,” she continues, not sure whether she’s trying to reassure Tony or herself.

Instead of looking relieved, Tony shakes his head; his fingers twitch at his sides. “What if none of this is real?” He whispers. “What if I died up there?”

She holds out her hand. “C’mon, shellhead,” she beckons. “I’m right here.”

But she can’t take that step towards him, because the fear in him is reflected in her. She would take a bullet for this man, for the human race, but Wanda had shown her how easy it would be to twist her mind into knots. She had seen Tony fly into space, a tiny blimp on a huge, alien spaceship. How could he be real? How did he get back?

Those questions disappear when he finally listens, when he crowds into her space, and suddenly Natasha can’t be afraid anymore. She reaches up, tracing a thumb over the bags under his eyes. “I love you,” she reminds him, slow and serious, and nothing in his fractured and relieved expression could ever allow her to confuse him for a child. That paradigm has fallen apart; just seeing his face makes her feel stronger than any loveless version of herself had ever been.  

In turn, his fingertips touch her cheek, altogether shaky and sure, and then he melts. One step forward brings their bodies together; he hooks his arms under her shoulders and around her upper back, lifting her slightly so he can press his face into her neck. She hears him mumble into her skin, but she doesn’t need to know the words. Their meaning is clear enough. She stands, firm and comforting, on her tiptoes, burying both her hands into his thick hair. He’s so warm, is all she can think. _He’s so warm._

“We need to get you to Shuri,” she says finally, smoothing her palms over his shoulders before pushing him back just a little. She wants to look him in the eye.

What she finds is agonized and determined. “I won’t leave you again,” he reminds her.

“I wasn’t planning on letting you out of my sight,” she retorts, but it is gentled with a thumb smoothed over his brow. There is a long cut there, one that will scar, but she loves it. It means he’s alive.

Something calms in him at her words, and his hands stop shaking. He slides them down her torso, pressing his fingers into her hips. “I might need a little more reassurance,” he admits, something crackling in his expression. He leans forward and kisses her, chaste and soft, yet burning with promises they would’ve never dared make mere months ago. It is more than any ring, than any piece of paper.

She nods, and she lets him lead her into the adjoining bedroom. They need to forget for awhile, and even more, they need to remember.

 

-

 

“What do we do?” Steve asks much later. There are six of them around the table, none sitting. All focused, no distractions. Gods and monsters and assassins alike.

Tony waits for Natasha to nod in encouragement, permission to share half-dreamt plans and unfounded hopes. When she does, he looks every member of his team in the eye before speaking:

“We avenge.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand that's it!! i really hope you guys liked this story <3 it's been so much fun for me to write, and i appreciate each and every comment you guys gave me!

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first of probably 3 or 4 parts!


End file.
